


There's Always A Tomorrow

by Sneakyfox55



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Sans (Undertale), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Astronomy, Author Makes Lots Of Song References, Because of Reasons, Cellos, Childhood Friends, Coffee, Depression, Established Reader Character, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Frisk being suspicious, Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk (Undertale), Guitars, I am so sorry, I don't know anything about politics so bear with me, I promise there will be eventual romance, It is a very slow burn though, It's Undertale what did you expect, Just making it up along the way basically, Keep forgetting to say this but there will be NO SMUT, Lava Lamps, Mostly Fluff, Mostly-Friendly Humans, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot points that seem to make no sense but will come back to haunt us later, REALLY slow, Reader is named, Reader plays guitar, Romance With Plot, Sans (Undertale) Needs a Hug, Sans does not hate you for this surprisingly, Self-Indulgence at its f i n e s t, Slow Burn, Some headcanons are inevitable, Stargazing, Texting, You have trouble becoming friends with Papyrus, You're also not good at punning, future cello and guitar concerts because i can, it'll show up later don't worry, like a really complex plot, mystery?, no one asked but, papyrus is a sweetheart, reader is female, remember me saying don't take it seriously?, sans is a sweetheart, sort of???, well i'm taking it real seriously, you're trying your best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2020-10-10 07:27:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 59,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20524214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneakyfox55/pseuds/Sneakyfox55
Summary: As the Leader of Ebott, you’re expected to do what’s best for the people living there. You take on any challenge that comes your way, and, for the most part, you think you’ve done a pretty good job so far.That is... Until new visitors come to your city. Very non-human, magical visitors that you’d only ever heard legends about.You may be in over your head this time.





	1. Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> really, im sorry lmao
> 
> But anyway, like I mentioned in the tags, this is mostly an experiment sort of, and I'm not really taking it seriously so you probably shouldn't either, haha. It's purely for fun but I hope somebody enjoys it anyway! The first chapter is pretty short, as it's just an introduction.

After living in Ebott City for so long, it’d pretty much slipped your mind how busy it tended to be these days. You found it almost second nature to tend to all problems within the city, mostly construction or property related but occasionally personal. You almost found it surprising how many people trusted you enough to rely on you; back when you’d first been granted charge of the city by your father, you could never have imagined the position you were in now.

It was... Weird. But nice. You’d made a lot of friends since then, more than you would have otherwise. But you’d be lying if you didn’t want a break every now and then. In fact, lucky you had found a way to catch that break. You’d managed to put one of said friends in charge, and starting tomorrow, you’d be off the hook for at least a week. You would take an actual vacation if you could (maybe somewhere far away, even), but you knew that would be going a little too far, as your friend could only handle so much.

Besides, you weren’t entirely off the hook. As the person in charge, you still had a job to do, help or no help. So when he called you on account of needing _your_ help, you weren’t that surprised.

What _did_ surprise you was his claim as to why.

Instead of being directly in the city itself, your home was hidden in a quiet but rather populated suburb, near the forest and mountains themselves. You’d never considered moving, even though the trip into the city was an extra five minutes; you liked the scenery here, and you weren’t entirely sure why but something else drove you to stay.

Of course, along with the extra travelling time this also meant you usually left security up to the other officials, so unless you were in your office, you wouldn’t see anyone visiting Ebott from your house. (Not easily at least.) You trusted your security enough that they would handle it, even if you were away.

And yet, even with all this information, you couldn’t have anticipated what exactly would show up in your city.

At first, your friend, William, hadn’t known the details. All the local guardsmen had told him was that something was heading their way, and even a few minutes after, they still had no idea what or who it was they were seeing. One claimed to have seen a walking skeleton; others said they saw a large, muscular figure with blue skin, and following that were... Bipedal cows. Or goats, even, dressed in regal clothing.

You couldn’t have made this up if you tried.

Apparently, neither could William, as he sounded just as stunned when he told you. You demanded he get the officials on the phone again, and he did, but not much more information came out of that. Therefore, you took matters into your own hands and drove your small van back into the city, trying to prepare yourself for whatever you were about to see.

Try as you might, you ultimately couldn’t.

When you arrived at your usual building, William stood outside, flanked by a couple officers. Funnily enough, even _they_ looked somewhat shaken by what they’d seen.

They explained in detail what had happened: how these odd creatures had just _shown up_, and the rest of the policemen and guards were currently keeping them outside the premises of the city. After hearing what they had to say, you led the small group to the far side of the city to check out what had been described.

There were about seven or so guards and ten policemen along the edge of the city, formatting a circle surrounding... Something. When you asked them to step aside, they obeyed, albeit reluctantly, and you saw exactly what all the fuss was about.

Well... Nobody had been lying. That was for sure.

And these things... These creatures, or visitors, or whatever they were were definitely not human. (Most of them, anyhow.)

They were a small group of curious-looking individuals. At the front were the aforementioned “goat” creatures. They were larger and taller than most of your men combined, but oddly enough, seemingly non-threatening. What perplexed you most, however, was the tiny figure in front of them.

Despite the rest of them clearly being not so, this figure was human. A mere child. You almost questioned your guardsmen right then and there why they weren’t taking the child away to safety, and away from these things, but you realized why they hadn’t. They hadn’t a need to, really.

The child seemed perfectly fine... Comfortable, even, if a bit nervous. That nervousness appeared to have nothing to do with the creatures behind them, however, and it didn’t take long for you to realize everyone was now looking at you. Even the human, and the creatures they were with. Their gazes were expectant, as though they anticipated what _you_ would say; what _your_ choice was, and how you would deal with this predicament.

Truly, your brief freedom had indeed been short-lived.


	2. Tales of Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You... Sort of make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found some more inspiration and wrote this chapter, but it is short again and mostly filler. I promise there will be actual character interactions in the next one though, haha.

It wasn’t that you’d never heard of monsters before. In fact, one of the first things your father warned you about before you accepted this role was that Ebott City in particular was known to bear many legends of these creatures; specifically, how they had once lived in peace with humans, but were suddenly banished to live under Mount Ebott for ill-fated reasons. Tales of war, and prejudice that made your skin crawl. Nobody knew why the humans living in the city all those years ago had done that, and therefore, those stories of betrayal faded into obscurity over time.

Eventually, they became nothing more than a fairy-tale; a bedtime fable to tell children when they refused to go to sleep right away. Nothing more than to scare them or settle their minds for the evening, promising that it really _was_ just a fairy-tale.

Even when the news said human children had fallen into the mountain over years, mysteriously disappearing, it was chalked up to them simply falling to their death; despite there being rumors of sometimes hearing the children crying out for help in the mountain. The parents themselves believed these rumors from time to time, but not much could be done about it, as they were mostly labeled crazy for even considering that their children might be alive down there.

After all, they never did come back. So what was all the fuss about?

But that also begged the question: why had these rumors started? Why so many children? Why _exactly_ seven humans, the same number of humans supposedly required to break the barrier that entrapped monsters in the first place?

Back then, when you read those seemingly fake history books, you had mostly decided it was just mere coincidence. There might have been some race opposed to the humans long ago, but surely, if there was they would have all died out by now.

Apparently not. And apparently it wasn’t a mere coincidence those human children disappeared like they had.

Currently, reflecting on those past events, you are in your office signing paperwork unrelated to it. Almost a day has passed since that encounter, and you are still no closer to having an answer as to what to do. Upon seeing these monsters for the first time, fully corporeal and alive and _not_ just pictures in a book, you think your brain might have spasmed a bit. What managed to confuse you further was the fact that they didn’t seem particularly mad at you, given the fact they’d just returned from a decades-long, even centuries-long imprisonment from your own species.

Asgore, the supposed King and one of the aforementioned goat-looking monsters, explained everything to you the second you made it obvious you didn’t understand anything. He talked about the war, the imprisonment, the barrier, and how the small human child with them had freed them. He even mentioned the disappearance of the seven children (Frisk, the human, was the seventh it turned out), though it was clearly a sore subject, and he was willing to tell you why.

Unfortunately, this specific discussion of his didn’t really make you more welcoming to their arrival; but he did make it clear he regretted his actions, and none of them seemed bloodthirsty in nature. After some prodding, from your guardsmen and one of the monsters alike—the blue-skinned one—you’d made your decision. At least, a temporary one, as anyone would be surprised if you knew right then and there how to deal with the matter at hand. You’d just told them you would think about letting them stay.

Thus, here you are now, trying to do decide what to do while you neglect most of your papers. (You hope whoever needs them signed won’t be too unforgiving.) You aren’t intent just yet on letting them into the city, of course; there are much too many variables to consider. But still, you refuse to send them back to the Underground for another hundred-odd years or so. Heaven forbid you do that; knowing they _a__re_ real is hard enough.

So now, it’s more of an in-between. You’ve allowed them to stay outside the city for the time being, in some encampment of sorts. You let a few citizens and volunteers, who had long since heard about the visitors, bring them things they might need, though you have made sure a few guards stay with them in case there’s something you haven’t accounted for.

...Geez, you sound like an idiot, don’t you? Trusting these strangers out of the blue like this, knowing that the means of how they got here were... Less than ideal. You have taken the King into custody, but is that enough? What if you aren’t being careful, like you should be? You knew that sometimes, you could too nice for your own good. This might be one of those times.

You suppose you are going to find out, either way. But it still puts you on edge regardless. Maybe you should go visit them yourself tomorrow, just to be safe. That might help clear up a few things; and besides, there is also taking Frisk into account. They are their ambassador, and they seem to be okay so far. Why not ask them a few questions?

Yes, you decide, you will do that instead of just guessing. At least you could find _some_ answers, even if they were questionable ones in of themselves. And, if anything does happen to go wrong, and you have to exile them anyway, at least you’ll be keeping your people safe.

That’s what truly matters in the end.


	3. Peculiar Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go see Frisk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, time for more characterization for our reader! She's basically an OC at this point, haha. I already have so much planned for her it's weird.
> 
> (Also, I know that the MAIN main characters--hint hint--haven't shown up yet but shush, I'm getting there.)

You planned to leave around eight or so. The former Queen of Monsters, Toriel, about the only one you’ve really kept in contact with, had updated you yesterday on how things were going in the camp. When you made the announcement that you would visit in person, and why, she said you were more than welcome to stop by and talk to Frisk. Of course, you’d left out the fact that you were doing this merely out of a precaution opposed to her; she didn’t need to know that detail.

With a sigh, you pull yourself somewhat drowsily into your blue minivan and start towards the city, pretending you’d gotten more sleep than you actually had. You would have made coffee to help, but by the time you’d waken up this morning, it was already seven-thirty and you had chosen before to dedicate most of that half an hour to getting ready and filling out a few more papers. You almost hadn’t even taken a shower, much to your chagrin, but when you had really thought about it the last impression you wanted to leave was that of a crazy, sleep-deprived _and_ unclean human. (You already fit two-thirds of that criteria right now, after all.)

Not long into the your drive, your phone goes off, chiming that short and cheery melody you’d set it to a few days ago. Ignoring your very own rules, you pick it up, one hand on the wheel and one hand clutching the device.

"_Hey, uh, Lara?” _comes William’s voice from the phone. _“You... Do know you’re supposed to be here, right?”_

Absentmindedly, your eyes give a little roll. “Yes, I do know. But I’m not. You think you could deal with it this time?”

_"Again?”_ He sounds incredulous; almost fearful. _“Last time you left me in charge—”_

“What, you really think some other used-to-be-fictional beings are going to show up while I’m gone?” you retort. “Dude, I’ll be right outside the city; if anything else _does_ show up, I’ll be first to see it.”

_"Uh... Why?”_

“Why what?”

_“Why are you outside the city?”_ he adds quickly, hearing the bewilderment in your tone.

Ah. Guess you forgot to tell him that. “I’m visiting them, what else? The monsters,” you clarify, because you know he’s going to ask you no matter how obvious it may be.

_“Oh! Oh. ...You are bringing security with you, right?”_

You say no, and, of course, he flips out, but you’ve already arrived at your destination so you tell him you’ll talk to him later and hang up. Thankfully, he resorts to almost-frantic texting instead, and you type out a quick reply (_“Will I will scream at the top of my lungs if I so much as THINK something’s wrong so shut up”_) as you climb out of your vehicle. He seems to settle after that, and you shove your phone into your jacket’s pocket.

Since you refuse to get your car stuck in any mud, you park it in front of a small supermarket at the edge of the city, several feet from the city gate and walls. (You _really_ need to take those down some day. It makes Ebott look like a prison.) From there, the camp was not far, only being about a hundred or so yards away. You’ve overseen it from your office before, but... It’s still certainly a sight to see.

There are dozens of cots and a few tents thrown about the small area, looking almost strung together at last minute and somewhat cramped. There hardly appears to be walking room among them, but that doesn’t seem to stop anyone, as said monsters are strolling about the small campsite as though it has been their home their entire life, having not noticed you yet.

Those that have noticed you, only a select few, either give you a little wave or a smile. Or both. You can’t help but smile and wave back, and step closer, your boots making soft t_humps _on the early morning grass. Less than thirty yards from the camp, a shout rings out.

“The human Lara’s here!”

And now, _everyone’s_ looking at you.

You approach further, bracing yourself for whatever greeting they might bring, when a familiar face steps out from the crowd now gathered in front of the camp. She manages to keep them back, as some of them seem intent on running to meet you themselves, then makes her way over to you once they’ve settled.

Despite her calm expression and motherly air, you can’t help but feel intimidated by her presence even now, and you hardly refrain from bowing respectively on instinct. You meet her gaze nervously and utter a meek, “H-hello, Your M—I mean, Toriel.” Ugh, you feel like an imbecile.

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem offended by your foolishness, only smiling gently in response. “Greetings, Miss Lara,” she says. “It is good to see you again.”

Of course she’d say that. Even still, your voice comes out like a squeak. “Same to you. Um...” Clearing your throat, you try again, and to your relief you don’t sound quite as pathetic. “I’d love to stay and talk, but as you probably know, I have a job to get to later, so...”

You bite your lip. _I hope that didn’t sound too rude. _But thankfully, Toriel nods in understanding.

“Of course. Follow me.”

With that, she leads the way into the camp, a few monsters still staring after you curiously. You make sure to greet them and anyone that greets you as you walk through their temporary home, and ultimately end up waving to nearly every monster that you pass. Of course, some of them ignore you entirely, but you don’t really blame them for it; seeing a strange human in their camp—not to mention, the same human that is the reason they aren’t fully living the life they want—must not have been a very welcoming surprise. And like Toriel has mentioned before, this just a fraction of the Underground, as the space here is so limited already. Not everyone has the luxury of moving to the surface just yet.

Somehow, that makes you feel worse. There is nothing stopping them from leaving the Underground at least for a few minutes, just to see the sun and stars; but you’re keeping them from being able to do that _all_ the time, or live under it, like they desperately wished to.

As though reading your thoughts (or just reading your expression), Toriel shoots you a glance. “It is not your fault,” she assures. “We know you are just doing what’s best for your own people. Your heart is in the right place.”

_Is it? _you ponder, guiltily.

Almost as soon as you’ve seen these creatures again, you’re starting to wonder if your judgement is wrong. You must be kidding yourself, right? Thinking that these people could ever even think to hurt _you_?

But, you thought, that was disregarding what their king had done. For all you know, any one of them could have helped him. It was likely at least some had; after all, they did have a Royal Guard, didn’t they? In one way or another, they had to have killed humans themselves, or at least aided in their slaughter.

They had done it out of survival, but at what cost?

Well, that’s why you’re going to talk to Frisk. Although only a child, they seem to have a good head on their shoulders. Surely they’ll make things clear to you.

Speaking of which, Toriel finally comes to a stop in front of a rather small tent, compared to the rest and not-so-common ones. However, it also seems to be the most decorated, covered in stickers and memorabilia of sorts. A medium-sized flowerpot is set beside it as well, full of nothing but dirt. (You recall the child asking one of the volunteers for it, and you have yet to figure out what it’s for, apparently.)

Most peculiar, though, are two bones located to the left of the flowerpot. One is adorned with a red ribbon while the other has a small note taped on in placement of a ribbon, attached almost lazily. You try to step closer to read what it says—because you’re curious and maybe kind of a creep—but Toriel is talking again, so you straighten up and try to look dignified again.

“Frisk, Lara is here,” she’s saying, her words turning out to not be directed towards you at all. Not even ten seconds later, the tent flaps flutter open and out steps the human ambassador themselves, dressed in the same purple-and-blue striped shirt you’d seen them wearing before.

Did this kid have any other clothes, or...?

You force that random thought out of your mind and smile politely. “Hello, Frisk. It’s alright if I talk with you for a few minutes, isn’t it?”

They nod, expression blank. You stand there for a moment awkwardly, trying to think of what to say, but Toriel does it for you.

“Well, if there is anything either of you need, do let me know. I will be right over here if you need me.” She points to a large cot nearby, and you give her a somewhat-shaky thumbs-up in response. (Stars, you’re so embarrassing.)

Frisk beckons for you to come inside the tent as the large monster takes her leave, and you oblige, trying to seem more official that you probably look right now. The inside of the tent is unsurprisingly tiny, but the younger doesn’t seem to mind and sits themselves down on the floor next to a sleeping bag. You follow suit and sit across from them.

To your own shock, you don’t hesitate and get straight to the point almost instantly. “So... Do you know why I’m here? What I want to talk about?”

Frisk nods, their expression softening a bit. It’s a shock when they open their mouth, and you almost have to lean in to hear them, their words being so quietly-spoken. “Yes,” they murmur. “Mom didn’t say anything specific, but I think I figured it out.”

_Aww, they called her mom... _Ugh, no, not the time. Brushing some of your brown hair out of your face, you continue, “And I’m sure you know I haven’t made a decision yet. I... Want to be able to, but I need your help with that. Okay?”

They nod again. You press on.

“I know by now, you know them much better than I do. And I know you consider them friends; but my question is, should I do the same?”

At that, they look somewhat confused, so you clarify, “I want to know if I can trust them, Frisk. _Really_ trust them, because I’m about to make a choice that could either make or break my city. What...”

You take a deep breath, and exhale slowly. “What was it like for you down there?” you ask. “King Asgore said they needed you killed—rather, your soul in order to break the barrier. That’s true, right?”

This time, they nod more solemnly; and, as if it didn’t get the point across enough, they mumble a confirmation.

“So what happened?” you inquire.

Ever so slightly, you lean forward.

“Why didn’t they kill you? Why do you consider them your friends?”

They meet your gaze, anxious and a bit sad. You consider that you’ve been too harsh—this was a _child_, after all—but then they speak again.

“They did kill me,” they say. “But I forgave them.”

...

...Well, okay then.

This is certainly new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger, I needed to end it somehow, lol. I debated about what I was going to put in this chapter and I think I finally settled on splitting it up this way, though this is probably the last one I'll write/post in a while, at least until next weekend. If I didn't split it up it probably would have been a pretty long chapter, and would've taken me extra time to finish. I wanted to get another one out of the way as soon as possible, so...
> 
> Anyway, thanks for all the kudos and support! You guys are the best. <3


	4. Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, you went to see Frisk. You were expecting to hear things you’d find unnerving, but...
> 
> Being able to escape death was definitely not one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i lied, i wrote the next one already, I'm being more productive than I thought I'd be
> 
> But in all seriousness, this chapter caused me more pain that I would like to admit lol. I wrote one version of it but scrapped it and had to rewrite it entirely almost from the beginning, which took much longer than I wanted it to. :')
> 
> I hope it's at least somewhat good, haha. Sorry if it feels rushed. I also wanted to get to the main plot of the story as soon as possible, so...

You stay silent when you hear them say it, mostly because you don’t know what to say. What _could_ you say to that? No sane person would just respond casually to their words, even if they’re pretending themselves that it’s no big deal.

“That’s not possible,” you finally utter, dumbly. “Are you... Mistaken or something? How could you—”

“Determination allows me to come back.” Their tone is abrupt, almost flat-sounding. “When my soul is destroyed, my determination brings me back to life.”

_Determination..._? What the hell is this kid talking about? Are they out of their mind?! “I—Frisk, I don’t—”

They interrupt again, though a bit more kindly as they tell you, “I’m sorry. I know I’m not making sense, but... Can you just... Let me explain?” They add a small _please_ upon seeing your hardened gaze, and you let out a brief sigh.

“Go on, then,” you mutter.

So, they do.

It’s a long process, and they hesitate a lot to get everything out, but they tell you the story to its full extent: falling into the hole in the mountain; monsters jumping to fight them around every corner; and meeting their friends along the way, through... Interesting circumstances. Most of their close friends had tried to capture them or hurt them in some way, the only exception being Toriel, and some skeleton monster named Sans. But, they add, he was still meant to capture them, only ending up not doing so _because_ of the former queen.

And even she was forced to fight them at some point, regardless of the reason.

That, in itself, is a lot to take in. And when they start explaining the concept of “determination” to you, it only gets more complicated, of course.

Simply put, they could come back. Even if they died fifty times over, they’d still “continue,” returning to potentially get killed all over again.

It is... Hard to think about. And even harder to believe.

Still, confusingly, they don’t take their words back. They seem like they are being _genuine_ here, and you’re left with three options to consider: simply call them crazy, chalk it up to them having an overactive imagination, or, most worryingly of all...

It’s neither of those things. They really _are_ telling you the truth.

And, eventually, to your own bewilderment, you believe it.

Obviously, it’s crazy. Heck, it’s _more_ than crazy, it’s... Impossible.

But, you suppose, nothing’s impossible at this point.

A little while ago, you’d believed something similar about monsters existing themselves; and yet, here all of them are, in this tiny little camp that they temporarily call home. That _you_ let them call home.

Truly, everything about this is crazy. But you listen to Frisk anyway. Everything they’re saying is something out of a fairy-tale itself, yet... You listen.

After a while, it starts to make sense. You don’t know why; you can’t _begin_ to imagine why, but it just does. Maybe it’s because they’re so young, and being in that many battles would surely have killed them by now. It would be scary if they survived that all in one go.

Not to mention, they eventually claim they can “prove it to you,” and you fervently refuse, insisting that no, you believe them. (Gods, what are they implying here? That’s sort of terrifying.)

It’s also a little easier to understand when they mention the nature of souls; how they’re easily affected by emotions alone. That concept too is a bit odd, but it’s at least somewhat plausible. They include the nature of a monster’s soul in that topic as well, and at this point your brain is almost hurting with all this new information.

...Eh, it is somewhat clearer to you now. That’s... Something.

But you still need to make something clear yourself.

“Can I ask you one last thing?” you say, after what seems like a lifetime of silence between the two of you. “I... If I were to let them stay, for good, and live in Ebott, do you think that would fix everything? As in... They’d be perfectly fine living in peace with us? No more fighting or anything?”

You hope your question makes sense. Thankfully, they don’t seem too confused by your words this time around, and respond softly, “Well, that depends on what your own people do.”

You straighten up, as though it’s an accusation. “I’m sorry, but—”

They hold up a hand, waiting patiently for you to back down. You do, reluctantly, and with a rather immature huff.

“I don’t blame you for anything, Miss Lara,” they say. “None of us do. You have every right to turn us way; shun us, even. I’m not advocating that you forgive anybody just yet. But,” they go on, seeming sad, and pleading, “I do want you to give them a chance. Nothing more than that.”

“But Frisk, don’t you understand what they’ve done?”

“Yes, and humans aren’t any different.”

At that, you pause. You try opening your mouth in some attempt at an argument, but they hold up their hand again, in more of a warning this time.

“Humans aren’t any different,” they repeat, gently but firmly. “We _aren’t_. We’re the ones that put them down there, and forced them to do that. We _created_ the barrier, remember?”

_Well, yes, but... _“But that wasn’t us in particular,” you protest. “I... Never even knew they were there, and if I had known them back then, I’d...”

“You didn’t know them, though.” They look up at you with an almost pitiful gaze. “Nothing can be changed now,” they remind you. “That was just how it happened. But everything from now can be changed.”

Your own expression softens, eyebrows furrowing. You’d be lying if you said they don’t have a point.

Still...

“I need to protect Ebott City,” you state bluntly. “If... If something goes wrong, I...” _I will never forgive myself._

To your surprise, they nod in understanding. “I know. ...And if I suspected anything like that of them,” they add softly, “I wouldn’t support them like I do.”

Ugh. This kid is too persuasive for their own good.

You let out a deep sigh, releasing only a fraction of the sudden weight that wore heavy on your heart. “That’s it, then?” you ask.

“...Hmm?”

Their eyes meet yours questioningly, trying to figure you out. So you clarify, “It’s up to me now.” And suddenly, with that phrase, you realize what you say next could make or break everything they’ve worked so hard for.

Everything _you’ve_ worked so hard for.

Stars, if you had known you’d be faced with a decision like _this_ in your future... _No, _you think, shoving that thought away. _It’s okay. I can do this._

You can do this.

“King Asgore will stay in custody,” is all you say as you get to your feet. Frisk stares up at you, curious and more than a little confused. Instead of explaining directly, you add: “I’ll ask him what he advises for everyone else.”

Slowly, as they process what you said, their expression morphs from puzzlement to understanding, then quickly to delight.

And they all but _squeal_.

“Oh, _thank_ you, Miss Lara!” Before you can react, they assault your torso with a grateful hug, squeezing you as though their little life depended on it. It’s not as breathtaking as you would imagine, and you hug them back easily, unable to keep a smile from escaping your own lips.

“You’re welcome,” you say. “But you _do_ have to make a promise to me.”

They pull away while nodding again, though with more vigor.

“What you can do isn’t, uh... How to put it? Y’know, normal.” Upon hearing this, their grin disappears, but you make yourself continue. “So if you haven’t already,” you put your hands on their shoulders gently, “I want you tell everyone about what your determination allows you do to.”

Their face pales at your words, way more than you thought possible. They blurt, “Well, Sans knows!”

_Uh... Okay?_ “I don’t care what he knows,” you respond, voice pretty much a retort. “That’s just one person. If you really care about these guys, you shouldn’t keep anything from them, right?”

And, bizarre as it is, what’s so bad about being able to cheat death? Honestly, you think that’d be a pretty useful power to have.

Why does Frisk look so... Haunted?

As though they haven’t noticed their own odd demeanor, they give you a small, watery smile. “I’ll, u-um... I’ll think about it.” It falters, just a bit. “...Promise.”

You don’t understand where this sudden apprehensiveness from them is coming from, but you don’t let it worry you too much. It probably is just because they’re scared to talk about something like that; you don’t blame them, but you also know it could be pretty traumatic for a child to go through. Surely, it’s got to be awful keeping all that in?

Still, you don’t press it as you watch them leave the tent (likely to tell Toriel about the news), wondering or not they’re really going to listen to your wishes. And, feeling just a bit fulfilled after your conversation—even if there’s a completely different and new imaginary burden on your shoulders—you take the time to look over their tent outside once more.

Indeed, half of the stuff cluttered around it are random objects of various kinds, including a couple you hadn’t noticed before on a small tray: a heart-shaped locket, a rather large book (that has a snail on the cover, seemingly), and a... DVD? With sparkly-eyed cartoonish women on the front? Wearing cat ears?

...Okay. Not your place to judge, you suppose.

But then, you notice the pair of bones from earlier, the one with the ribbon and the one with just the note taped on. They are on a tray of their own, as Frisk had apparently run out of room for their stuff.

You step towards them, fully intent on finally reading what on earth could be on that note, and...

It’s a pun.

It says “_you’re a __boneafide__ friend._”

And, for some inexplicable reason, despite your better judgement, you snort. It’s terrible, and you’re not sure why, but it just catches you so off guard that it’s almost funny.

Geez, Lara, what did you get yourself into?

Ah, oh well. All of this is for another time.

Right now, you have to return to the city; you have an announcement to make.


	5. A New Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a talk with Asgore.  
...And, also meet someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's kind of rushed and I'm not too happy with it, but I needed to get it done somehow, haha. That's what happens when you take a fun-based story too seriously I suppose, lol. I hope it suffices anyway, and I'll try to do better with the next one. ^^'

It turns out, monsters are pretty welcome to the idea of living with humans now; your citizens less so, but open-minded all the same, volunteers and policemen alike. It’s... Slow progress, but it’s progress.

As you had promised Frisk, you did talk to King Asgore later that afternoon. And when his ultimate request was to not have you punish anybody else, you were both flabbergasted at the same time as you were understanding. It makes sense with his seemingly kind nature for him to wish this, but it’s also quite unfair, you think. He shouldn’t have to take all the blame for everything that had happened, but it’s clear to you you won’t be able to change his mind anytime soon.

In a way, it makes you sad that he himself chooses to live in captivity, while his loyal subjects are able to live in happiness and freedom now. But you know that’s just how it has to be. Maybe some day, he might join them.

Until then, you took to visiting him every once in a while, just to tell him what’s new. He seems appreciative of your company, at least. He’s so kind and gentle that, for a moment, you wonder why you were keeping him locked up in the first place. But, what he’s done just isn’t something you can ignore, even if it pains you to see him behind bars.

It’s ridiculous, being this hung up over imprisoning a stranger you hardly know. But, silly as it is, you suppose you’re just too nice for anything other than this. Especially considering Frisk _is_ right about them.

Recently, you find yourself trying to imagine what it would be like to be solely made up of compassion; to have others ridicule you—harm you, even—but still forgive them all the same, despite that. It’s clear he’s forgiven you, for something you had nothing to do with but still feel responsible for, in some way. Part of you thinks you don’t deserve that; that any of your kind deserves it, after you’ve entrapped them for so long.

...Gods. What could _that_ have been like? Living in a cavern for most of your life, only surpassing as a fraction of the real world you wanted to see. No guarantee of survival. No guarantee of being set free. No...

How did they do it, all those years? How did they hold onto their hope, fragile as it was? Who could stand that?

Who could _live_ with that?

Finally, a few weeks since monsters have come into the city and a few days since you’ve last seen King Asgore, you decide to ask him what it was like. It’ll be hard for him to talk about, there’s no arguing there, but you just have to know. It’s killing you, not understanding anything. (Besides, it’s not just for you. You owe something to your people here.)

You don’t want to seem like a jerk, but you probably will anyway.

Hopefully, he’ll forgive you for this too.

\---

You ignore the odd (and now routinely) looks the guards give you as you pour the tea into two separate coffee mugs, and reassure them for what seems like the hundredth time that you’ll be able to handle yourself. Then, clutching both mugs in hand after you’re done, you give them one of your cheery early-morning-riser smiles in return and push backwards into the opposite door of the entrance to the police office, all the while knowing you probably look like nothing more than an insane woman willingly about to risk her life for an idle chat.

...Well, neither of those things are entirely true; it’s definitely _not_ going to be an idle chat, most likely. And, while this is a prison, you doubt you’ll be in any mortal danger here. You learned a while ago that most of the thugs you happen to lock up are usually all bark and no bite, so you’re probably good.

Honestly, your men are probably more worried about who it is you’re actually seeing. You feel some ounce of gratitude, as they’re simply just trying to look out for their leader above all else, but it’s also really suffocating for them to be trying to keep you from what you need to do _as_ the Leader of Ebott. It’s simply your duty to them.

And if that means talking to a weird kingly goat monster in order to do that duty, then so be it.

You arrive at the cell before the mugs of tea have much of a chance to cool off, setting them on a chair you’d long since removed from the actual office. It was a last-minute decision at the time, as during these conversations with the king, you preferred to be sitting on something other than the cold metal floor of the prison; and, as much as you didn’t think he’d hurt you, you refused to sit on King Asgore’s cot. That’d be multiple levels of weird, even if he did offer to let you have it as he sat on the floor himself.

Upon hearing your footsteps, the former king of monsterkind glances up, his surprised frown morphing into a smile almost automatically. “Hello, Miss Lara,” he greets you politely.

“Hey,” you respond back. Before you can ponder if it’s too casual or not, you pick up one of the mugs and carefully maneuver it through the bars of his cell. He takes it from you with a murmur of thanks, his warm gaze somehow softening further, which you didn’t think possible.

You pick up your own mug from the chair and sit down on its flat surface, taking a small sip of tea then recoiling as it burns your tongue. You scowl slightly, but it quickly disperses as you watch the massive goat monster already drinking from his own beverage calmly, seemingly unaffected by its scathing temperature. You merely give a small shake of your head.

“So,” you begin, cautiously setting the tea in question on the floor beside you. “I... Wanted to ask you a few questions, if it’s alright with you.”

“Of course.” He’s familiar with this routine of yours. He knows what you want from him. It almost makes you feel guilty, given the topic you want to discuss with him.

You breath out through your nose, contemplating. “I’ve only asked you about the barrier thus far,” you go on slowly, “and about the War. But I want to clarify something else today.” Geez, how cryptic can you get?

The king just nods in acknowledgement, awaiting your next words.

“What was it like?” Great, now you are not being subtle enough. You nearly roll your eyes at yourself and your inability to keep up a stable conversation. “Underground, I mean. You wanted to the break the barrier so you didn’t have to live down there, right?” You cross your legs absentmindedly. “Did you... Hate it?”

Asgore’s grip on his mug tightens ever so slightly, and he looks somewhat uncertain, but his stance is still rather collected. After a moment, a half-hearted smile spreads across his bearded muzzle, looking at you with something you can’t quite describe. “That is an interesting question to ask,” he says quietly. “If I may, what brings you to consider it?”

Apparently, you haven’t really thought this through all that much, as you merely stare back at him blankly, trying to gather some form of reply on your tongue. “I’m really just wondering, I suppose,” you finally manage, albeit awkwardly. “Your... Everyone always acts so happy to be here now.” You leave out the part about them thanking you every chance they get. It’s... Embarrassing, honestly.

“I see.” He studies you a moment more, then pauses to take another sip of tea. You wait patiently. “In any case,” he finally utters, “being underground was claustrophobic, at times.”

“Oh.” Is that all...?

“Most, however, hated being down there because of the betrayal.” Ah. “We learned to live with it, of course,” he adds, his tone taking on a softer edge, his eyes glossing over somewhat as he appeared to recall the memories. “It was... Difficult. But we managed.”

He glances down at his mug again, as though processing whether he should take another gulp of it or not; instead, to your faint surprise, he sets it on the floor, mirroring yours.

“Many of my subjects lost hope after a while.” The sadness returns to his eyes, stronger than previously, and he folds his hands tensely. “Many believed they would never see the surface again. For some time, I agreed. If you ask me,” he adds, smiling ruefully, “I think the majority of us just missed humans in general. But you would never hear anyone admit that.”

You watch silently as he settles himself on his makeshift bed, hands moving to rest in his lap. Suddenly, his regal demeanor seems to vanish entirely as his tall, large form hunches in on itself. To you, he looks more like an exhausted, broken-down old man than a former king. It only makes you sympathize with him even more, regardless of your previous judgement.

“That is why all of this happened,” Asgore continues, voice barely above a whisper. “I declared war on the humans once more, to... Prove a point, of sorts. My kingdom was pleased with the decision, and their hopes returned. I did not stop it. I wanted to preserve their hopes. ...And, in return, I lost everything. A punishment fit for someone like me.”

Suddenly, his gaze is on you again. In barely disguised alarm, you notice there are tears glistening in his eyes, a bright, odd shade of yellow. Maybe the first time since you arrested him, you see his furry paws are shaking, as is the rest of him.

Even still, he’s smiling: at you, of all people. The one who locked him up here, the one who prevented him from seeing his subjects and prevented him from living in peace with them. The one who brought this conversation up, and forced him to talk about something that still pains him, even now.

_You_, part of a species that had hurt them so many times before, and have yet to make up for it.

How can you possibly respond to this?

“I’m sorry.”

His smile falters, likely because you sound upset. “For what?” he inquired, a touch of concern etched in his features and voice.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. None of you deserved that.” Gods, you wish you could say more than that, but you really can’t. It’s not enough, but it’s all you can think of uttering.

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” is, obviously, what comes out of the former king’s mouth. It only makes you feel more guilty, and doesn’t soothe you. “Have you not been kind to us?”

You want to say no, simply because you feel so terrible for letting this happen. But you know you’re being ridiculous, so instead you say, “I guess, but I’m... Not really doing anything. For you, I mean.”

He gives you an almost incredulous look. “But you are,” he states, as though it’s clear as day. “You are giving me a chance to explain myself; not many would do that. Even I do not completely believe I deserve it.”

“But—”

“And you are helping my people. I cannot ask for more than that.”

You clutch your mug from off the floor, knowing it’s long-since cooled but simply needing something to hold on to. “But it’s a slow process,” you argue, disregarding your previous positive thoughts. “I’m—I don’t know if it’s enough, and...”

You trail off, then let out a sigh, trying to get your act together for once. Never mind that. There’s no time to feel guilty right now, you decide. “No,” you say, after hesitating. “You’re right.”

You rise to your feet quite abruptly, chilled tea still in hand. “Thank you for answering my questions. I know humans can be... Demanding.”

He dismisses it with a small shake of his large head. “Not at all. I am glad to have seen you again.”

You return his smile, though it’s just a little forced.

Afterwards, there isn’t much else to talk about (other than giving him updates, of course), so you say your goodbye, then promptly head out of the jailhouse while giving your guards scattered nods of farewell. You wonder briefly if they can tell your mood is a bit less cheery than before; if so, they make no comment about it, to your relief. You kind of wish you could thank them for it later, but, obviously, that’d be a little stupid.

Instead, you keep walking.

As you head down the sidewalk to your neighborhood, you find that, after the first conversation you’d had with him a few weeks ago, your opinion of the former king hasn’t changed much. You aren’t quite sure why you might’ve been expecting it to change, but it somewhat surprises you anyway. It’s weird to think you’re getting used to this; not exactly _unpleasant_, just... Weird. In fact, it almost seems as things are starting to go back to normal, if slightly different in nature this time.

It’s... It’s nice.

Maybe somewhere down the line, you can even take another break, and—

In the middle of that thought, you make a last-second swerve around some kid walking along the sidewalk near you, stumbling to a halt just in front of them as they stare at you with wide eyes. You stammer out an apology before recognizing them, your expression sheepish.

“Oh. Hi, Frisk. Sorry I...” What? Almost ran into them? Looked like an idiot?

After a few seconds, they just grin broadly at you, as though you’re one of their friends or something. “It’s okay, Miss Lara! We’re not really in a hurry anyway.”

We...?

You practically leap backwards as someone appears out of thin air beside the child, hand lifted casually in some form of a greeting. “hey.”

Uh...

“name’s sans. you’re the human everyone’s talkin’ about, right?”

Uhhh...

His pupils—lights? Eye-lights?—look over you curiously, as though contemplating whether you had noticed him or not. He decides you must have as he continues, “anyhow, sorry if i scared ya. have you never seen a skeleton monster, or...?”

Well, you had. But that day had been a blur; you might’ve recalled seeing a skeleton in a blue hoodie, but it’s not like you’d know that, right? Even if he had been there, you still hadn’t been meeting him face to face, like you are now.

Oh. And there’s the fact that he _showed up out of literally nothing_.

Why _wouldn’t_ you be a little scared?

“I have,” you finally say, mildly annoyed. “Just not up close.”

Sans, so he calls himself, meets your exasperated gaze with something like amusement. Then, abruptly, he turns on his heel and half-heartedly waves Frisk over. They shoot him a glare, chastising him for being so rude, but take his hand begrudgingly in theirs.

“Wait ‘til Mom hears how you treated the Leader of Ebott,” they taunt. You hear Sans chuckle before he suddenly sends a glance back your way, taking you off guard.

“see ya ‘round, buddy,” he tells you in an oddly friendly fashion, before turning back to Frisk.

You simply stare after the duo in silence, trying to process what just happened; ultimately, you give up trying to understand and resort to shaking your head.

Truly, what a weird bunch these guys are.


	6. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some monsters move into your neighborhood. You just so happen to recognize one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually trying to work on the next one right now as well, so I might be able to post that one tomorrow since I'm imagining it'll be pretty short. Sorry if either of them seem rushed, my brain's been a bit tired lately, lol. Plus, like I said in the tags, I'm basically just making this up as I go; that's not to say it doesn't have a story, I just don't have a specific timeline for events or anything like that, so things might seem a bit weird, sorry.
> 
> I hope you like these chapters anyway, and I hope I portrayed everyone well enough here. That's kind of my big concern in this, and I want to make sure I have their personalities written well, or at least believable as compared to the game. Please let me know! :)
> 
> (And yes, the title of this chapter is a pun)

Your day had started off pretty calmly in the beginning; you took your shower, got dressed, ate some toast, and started up some coffee (your new addiction, apparently). It was a rare, cloud-free autumn day, and you decided to spend your time on the porch outside while you sit and drink aforementioned coffee.

Upon opening the door, however, you notice something peculiar.

A couple houses down, a U-HAUL truck is parked in a rather small driveway, the home it belongs to almost just as tiny. At first, there’s no sign of anybody until the door of the vehicle is pushed open, and at the same time, another vehicle pulls into the driveway: a van kind of like yours.

Almost immediately after arriving, someone, a monster, launches themselves out of the front-passenger's side of the van, planting their blue hands on their hips and shouting something you can’t quite pick up at the man who had been driving the U-HAUL. It only seems to annoy him as he heads around the back of his truck and shoves open the door, giving the other person a look that could have only been a glare.

As this is happening, a few other individuals hop out of the van, and to your surprise, you see that one of them is the Ambassador of Monsters themselves, clutching a box that is almost two-thirds their size. Weirdly enough, Toriel isn’t with them; instead, in her place is someone you know less, but recognize anyway. Seeming to chide them, he takes the box in his own hands, and in response, the child folds their arms crossly. He merely shrugs and starts walking away, leaving them to follow reluctantly, only to come to yet another stop as a fifth person marches up to them and shouts something in a volume similar to that of the blue-skinned monster.

He’s carrying what looks to be something akin to a small television (with no difficulty whatsoever, you notice), then suddenly glances in your direction, and you quickly avert your gaze elsewhere so as not to appear a creep. When you look back at the figures in the driveway, the guy carrying the T.V. is saying something to the pair in front of him, in an almost secretive way. He points in your direction, and they follow his gaze.

Before you can duck away out of sight—which you really, really want to now—they see you almost instantly. Frisk gives a small little wave, grinning brightly, so you tentatively wave back, and pretend you don’t notice the short skeleton at their side, staring at you like you’ve grown a second head. After a pause his lax expression returns, but it does little to help your situation, and you try to advert your gaze entirely to your coffee now. For a moment, nothing happens. Then...

“MISS HUMAN LARA!” someone literally _shrieks_, forcing you to redirect your attention yet again. Then you scramble backwards as your eyes meet somebody else’s, nearly spilling your coffee all over yourself.

In front of you is a very tall, very lanky skeleton monster, wearing what appears to be fake armor and a bright red-orange scarf. (Or is it a cape? You honestly don’t know.) You realize he was the one holding the T.V. just a moment ago, but now it’s vanished from his grasp.

Wait, wasn’t this guy all the way over there a few seconds ago? How’d he get here so fast?!

“Who _are_ you people?!” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, much to your chagrin a mere millisecond later. The skeleton’s eyes widen as he lets out a gasp.

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHO I AM??! OH MY GODS, SANS, DID YOU HEAR THAT?!!”

“sure did, bro.”

You jump again at the sudden appearance of Sans beside the other, then immediately fix him with a glare. “Quit doing that!” you demand, only making him chuckle.

You bite back a groan, and reluctantly meet the gaze of the tall skeleton in question, still looking quite offended (and even hurt?) at the implication that you have no idea who he is. “I’M ONLY THE GREATEST AND MOST PRESTIGIOUS MONSTER TO EVER LIVE!” He puts a gloved hand over his chest and poses dramatically, reminding you of something like a superhero in the nature of his stance. He turns back to you, frowning. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DON’T EVEN RECOGNIZE ME! I THOUGHT FOR SURE I MADE A GOOD FIRST IMPRESSION...”

He mumbles something about this being the worst day of his life, and Sans shoots you a very specific look; not threatening, exactly, but... Intense. So you cautiously say, “Were you by chance with King Asgore and Miss Toriel when they first came here?”

He quickly brightens up at that, shoulders no longer slouching. “YES!! OOH, I KNEW YOU MUST HAVE REMEMBERED ME! NEVER MIND, THIS IS THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!”

Without warning he picks you up by your arms and swings you around, knocking the breath out of you. It is then that you drop your mug of coffee, barely having time to worry about it spilling and/or potentially shattering on the wood below.

“Papyrus, please put Miss Lara down!”

His gaze snaps to behind him, and you both meet the stern face of Frisk standing beside the blue monster on the steps of your porch. “OH. OF COURSE.” He sets you back on the ground—surprisingly gently—and you dust yourself off, trying to ignore the slight trembling of your legs. “I APOLOGIZE, MISS HUMAN LARA.”

“It’s alright,” you manage, once you can speak again. “No harm d—”

You’re pulled into the air _again_ before you can finish your sentence, this time by a stronger, rougher set of arms. Whomever they belong to proceeds to noogie you, hard. 

“Nice to see you again, punk!! It’s been a while!” You struggle to lift your head and glance up into a glowing yellow eye filled with a ferocious fondness of some kind, and a wide, yellow toothy grin to match. Your heart jumps to your throat and, once more, you can barely breathe; this time out of being crushed than anything else.

“Undyne, what did I just say?” The human child’s voice rings through the air again, nearly sounding angry now. A similar scene happens where the monster meets her friend’s gaze and begrudgingly lets you down, looking sheepish and annoyed at the same time.

Now, it’s harder to recover from the friendly assault, and you almost have to support your weight on the wall of your house, gulping air in and out in shock. A hand tugs at your shirt a moment later, getting your attention.

“I’m really sorry, Miss Lara,” says Frisk, looking up at you with apologetic eyes. “My friends are... Excitable.” As though to further their point, they give the three monsters a hardened stare before returning to you.

You shake your head wordlessly, swallow, and try to talk again (while vaguely fearing another attack might come before you can). “No, it’s... It’s fine. Just not... Used to the attention.” Well, part of that is true, at least.

“hey, think ya dropped something.”

You look up in surprise to see the shorter skeleton holding out a mug to you: _your_ mug, the one you’d let go of, and thought for certain you’d lost. It was still relatively full with coffee, and seemed unharmed. (How had he...?)

Slightly stunned, you take it from him. “Um, thank you.” Sighing, you stand up straighter, giving everyone a once over and quirking an eyebrow. “Might I ask what everyone is doing here?”

Frisk smiles, happy to change the subject. “Oh, I was just helping Papyrus and Sans move! Undyne too, but she’s in the next street over.” They point to the distance past the house they and their monster friends were just at.

“And where’s Toriel? Shouldn’t she be watching you?”

They fiddle with their hands absentmindedly. “She couldn’t come. She had to go to some meetings for her teacher job.”

..._Huh. Didn’t know she wanted to be a teacher. _You nod in acknowledgement, taking a small, thoughtful sip of your coffee. It’s colder than you would have liked, but what can you do? “Oh. Well,” you continue, “I would invite you all inside, but I have to leave for work soon, sorry.”

Everyone looks collectively disappointed by this (sans Sans), but Frisk nods in understanding, smiling. “Oh, it’s fine. It was nice to see you again anyway, Miss Lara! Bye!”

With that they hop down the porch steps, beckoning their friends to join them. Undyne flashes you one last grin, shouting a gruff “See ya, punk!” in your direction before launching herself off the porch. Papyrus looks more reluctant to go, fixing you with an almost sad gaze.

“BUT WE HAVEN’T EXCHANGED PHONE NUMBERS YET!”

What?

Before you can protest he fetches a piece of paper from behind him (what the heck?) and writes something on it hastily before shoving it towards you, urging you to grab it. You oblige and stare at it inquisitively, reading the scribbled text. It’s a phone number, but all the numbers are the same size, shape and style, like he’d written it in some sort of a font. Weird.

“NOW YOU CAN CALL ME ANY TIME YOU WANT!” He beams at you, then turns on his heels. “FAREWELL, MISS HUMAN LARA!”

“W-wait, I don’t—”

Aaand he’s gone.

You let out a small huff, turning back and almost jumping a third time upon realizing Sans is still standing there in front of you, his grin thoughtful and somewhat probing.

“SANS, DON’T JUST STAND THERE ALL DAY! GET OVER HERE!!”

The sound of Papyrus’s irritated voice seems to get his attention, as he turns and calls to him with a simple, “sure thing, pap.” His grin goes back to normal as he gives you a small wave and starts to trail slowly after the other skeleton, who had stopped mid-step to glare at him.

As Papyrus starts moving again, you watch the group approach the van and U-HAUL truck once more, the driver of said truck looking quite peeved at their sudden disappearance. Undyne claps him on the back, letting out a good-natured laugh as he pulls himself away quickly, scowling.

You shake your head and head back inside, only to pause in the doorway as you realize you hadn't given Papyrus your own phone number.

\---

Later that afternoon, sitting in your office, you nearly fall out of your chair as you receive a new text message.

** _Unknown: _ ** _HELLO MISS HUMAN LARA! IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS!!_

What the heck?! How did he get your number?!

** _You: _ ** _How did you get my number??_

** _Unknown:_ ** _ IT WAS EASY!! I JUST DIALED EVERY NUMBER ON THIS STREET SEQUENTIALLY UNTIL I GOT YOURS!_

...Of course.


	7. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You see Papyrus again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry if it seems rushed! The next chapter will be longer I promise, haha.
> 
> Meanwhile, have more Papyrus!

Your new neighbors are... Interesting people.

Ever since he’s gotten your number, Papyrus has been texting you on and off, and one day, shortly after he and his brother Sans moved onto your street, he shows up at your door with a cheery grin and a present for you. (It’s spaghetti.) He claims that Sans was supposed to come with him but had decided to, as he put it, “SIT AROUND AND BOONDOGGLE ALL DAY INSTEAD, THAT LAZYBONES!”

You’re beyond overwhelmed by Papyrus’s demeanor at this point that you’re never the one calling or contacting him; it’s always the other way around. And it’s usually when you are working—you don’t fault him for it, but even so...

Everything is moving so fast right now. You see your eccentric skeleton neighbor almost every day (since he’s literally in the house a few houses down from your own) and on top of that, he always seems to get visitors: Frisk, Undyne, some yellow monster you don’t know the name of, and even Toriel occasionally. They don’t really bother you personally, thankfully, but it _is_ distracting. You’d never say that to their face, but it just is.

They’re... More draining than you would like to admit. You were always so used to Ebott being rather calm these days, despite it being a city. Back when your father was still in charge, he’d taken care of most things beforehand, leaving you with hardly anything to worry about. Nothing ever groundbreaking happened, and that’s how you liked it. You knew most of your citizens, and they knew you; it was almost like a small community, smaller than it had any right to be. In fact, to anyone outside of the city it was odd how little activity you’d get.

You suppose you should have seen something like this coming, but you didn’t, obviously. You talk to Asgore about it once then immediately apologize, feeling guilty for insulting his subjects in some way. He doesn’t take it to heart but you decide you won’t bring it up again, for fear of upsetting him and looking like you have no idea what you’re doing. (You really don’t, but that’s besides the point.) You have no right to complain, you think. Monsters have been nice to you the moment they arrived, you’re just apparently not as experienced as you thought.

Thus, when an all-too-familiar skeleton monster shows up again, this time while you’re at your office, it’s not a very welcoming surprise.

Upon first hearing the door open, you don’t think much of it; but when you look up, Papyrus is standing there, glancing around the room with bright eye-sockets.

“Uh...” you begin.

“WOWIE! IS THIS WHERE YOU WORK??”

You set your stacks of paper down on your desk, silently wondering who in the gods’ names let him up into your own personal office. “Yes,” you say patiently. “But I’m really busy right now, Papyrus. It would be best if you—”

“OOH, WHAT’S THIS?”

He lifts a vase off a table, holding some flowers someone—you have absolutely no idea who and when—gave you some time ago that have long since wilted. (You think they were orchids...? Once?)

You rub your temple slowly, trying not to sigh. “Papyrus, please put that down. It’s very fragile.”

He seems to note the exasperation in your tone and returns the vase to its former place. “THESE FLOWERS DON’T COMPLIMENT THIS ROOM AT ALL,” he states. “YOU SHOULD PROBABLY THROW THEM AWAY.”

“I know, and I will, but...”

“WHAT’S IT LIKE BEING THE LEADER OF EBOTT?”

Oh. Um. “It’s good, I guess?” you respond.

Despite the grin on his skull, his expression seems to read yours carefully, and you try not to be too uncomfortable when he inquires, “DO YOU LIKE IT HERE?”

Okay, now this is just weird. _Where is this coming from__? Why is he here in the first place? _“Of course I do,” you tell him, now thoroughly confused. “Did I say I didn’t, or...?”

“OH, NO, NOT AT ALL MISS HUMAN LARA!!” Just like that, he seems to be smiling genuinely again, as if it never happened. “I WAS SIMPLY WONDERING!”

...Alright?

You can’t help the look of utter befuddlement in your expression as you stare back at him, blinking. “Do you need something, Papyrus?”

“HUH?” His eyes go back to you. “WHY WOULD I NEED A REASON TO VISIT MY FRIEND?”

“Because I’m in the middle of work, and...” Wait. “...Friend?”

“OF COURSE!” His smile wavers, just a bit, and a hint of doubt enters his gaze. “WE ARE FRIENDS NOW, AREN’T WE?”

You resist the urge to bury your face in the palms of your hands, feeling more than a little overwhelmed at this point. It isn’t that you don’t like the guy, or anything of that sort, really; this is all just... Very strange to you. Would you really consider someone like this your friend? Even if he is your neighbor now, you’ve only known him for what, a week? You barely know his brother, either!

But... Does it really matter? What exactly is your perception of a friend, anyway?

When you redirect your attention, he’s still looking at you, awaiting a response. You sigh, beginning to twirl your hair in your finger absentmindedly. “...Later,” you finally settle on, quietly. “We’ll talk about this later. Okay?”

His smile disappears, but he doesn’t look too upset, at least. “OKAY.” You think you can see hope in his eye-sockets for a moment, even, but it’s gone in the next instant, and he’s grinning at you again. “WELL, I SHALL SEE YOU LATER THEN!! HAVE A GOOD REST OF YOUR MORNING, MISS HUMAN LARA!”

You let out a breath of relief as he parades away, giving you a cheery, “GOODBYE!” before opening the door and vanishing behind it.

Shoulders slouching ever so slightly, you pick up your pen again and get back to work.


	8. Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next time someone shows up at your office, it isn’t who you were expecting it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! It might be longer for each chapter to come out now since we're getting more into the story now, so I hope you can bear with me, haha.
> 
> In the meantime have this short mess-of-a-chapter that I tried to make at least somewhat coherent. :')

You glance at the clock for what seems like the hundredth time this evening, counting down each second until it burns out your brain and you have to go back to doodling on some extra notebook paper. Why are you doing this? Well, some idiot (you) had made it technical that you weren’t allowed to leave your office until nine o’clock P.M., the standard time for when everybody else went home; that is, those who hadn’t already left for the day. And Heaven forbid you break your own rules by cheating and leaving early. It’s ridiculous, you know, but what if something changes during that time? What if, for some inexplicable reason, they need you here and you’re just chilling out at home watching a horror movie or something and eating popcorn? After all, the last time you’d done something similar led to one of the predicaments you currently are in.

...Not that it will happen again, really, but you can never be too sure. Therefore, you’re more strict with your own rules now, regardless of your feelings; and right now you’re feeling very, very tired.

Naturally, in this state of mind you pretty much forget everything that happened prior to this. And when your phone makes a resounding “ping!” through the deafening quiet, it takes you nearly a minute to get your act together and look at the message you’ve received.

**_Papyrus:_** _HELLO? MISS HUMAN LARA ARE YOU THERE??_

** _Papyrus:_ ** _ I DON’T MEAN TO BOTHER YOU BUT I WAS GOING TO PAY YOU A VISIT AT YOUR HOUSE BECAUSE YOU SAID YOU WOULD TALK TO ME LATER BUT YOU DON’T APPEAR TO BE HOME AT THE MOMENT!_

You blink at the phone’s screen wearily, then slowly type out a response:

** _You:_ ** _ Sorry, I get off at nine. Forgot to tell you._

** _You:_ ** _ Is it alright if you come over early tomorrow instead?_

He answers not even ten seconds later, somehow fogging up your brain even more.

** _Papyrus:_ ** _ WILL DO!_

Exhaling softly, you put your phone in your bag and look at the clock again. It’s only eight-thirty. A half an hour left. What can you possibly do in that time? Your fingers are too cramped to continue doodling, and exhausted as you are, you refuse to fall asleep. What would be the use in that?

As sort of a last-minute decision, you take to watching the cars move outside your window instead, the city lights glaring below you like they belong to a world of their own. You let out a little hum, resting your head on your knuckle, then sit up when you suddenly spot someone walking down the sidewalk; someone familiar. What...?

What is Frisk doing out there in the dark by themselves?

Before you can do much more, a quiet knock raps against your door. You spin back around in your chair, assuming the visitor to be a co-worker of yours, or even William, and call, “Come in.”

There’s a pause. Then...

“uh... you’re supposed to say ‘who’s there.’”

...Huh? That’s not anyone _close_ to who you normally see. What...?

Before you can question it further, the door opens, and in shuffles the short skeleton. His grin is oddly visible through the darkness as he looks a mixture of casual and sheepish, and he raises a hand in greeting, similar to when you first met him.

“hey,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. You merely stare back at him, unable to fully understand this situation.

“Can I help you?” is all you can think of saying.

His response, of all things, is to chuckle. “heh. you’re not very good at being professional, are you?”

Wonderful, it hasn’t even been a minute and this is guy is making you look like an idiot. 

“Maybe I would be if you didn’t catch me off guard all the time,” you retort, like the child you are. Of course, he laughs again.

“sorry bud. for what it’s worth, it wasn’t my intention. ...entirely,” he adds.

You sigh, trying _really_ hard not to cover your face with your hands. “Please tell me there’s a good reason you came here,” you grumble, too late to collect your rudeness as he answers.

“yeah, guess you could say that. so, do you have a few?”

“...Sure. Go ahead.”

“cool.” Sans heads to the right and grabs a chair you’d forgotten you had, then places it in front of your desk before setting himself down. He sits a moment in silence, looking almost... Anxious. It’s as though he wants to say something, but can’t really figure out the way to do it.

“Err.” You decide to begin, because clearly he won’t. “So how’s Papyrus?” Ugh. You’re just great at conversations, aren’t you?

To your surprise, however, he seems perfectly fine with the question, his glowing eye-lights somehow growing ever so slightly. “he’s doin’ good,” he responds, then tilts his head slightly. “but didn’t you see him earlier yourself?”

“Uh... Yes.”

“...alright then.” His gaze is questioning when you don’t elaborate, but he seems to shrug it off in the next instant. “anyway, he told me you’d talk to him later.”

“I did tell him that,” you say slowly. He raises a brow at you, so you continue, “Don’t get me wrong, your brother’s really nice but he called me his friend, and I’m not really sure I want to be friends with someone like that so soon, you know?”

“ok.”

You’re unable to stop yourself and you go on even more incoherently, “I-I mean, that isn’t to say I can never be friends with him but all of this will take a lot of getting used to, and I have so much on my plate already.”

“ok.”

“Really, I don’t—I don’t mean to offend anybody here,” you try to amend, thinking he’s going to yell at you or something.

“i know.”

Oh, now you’re in trouble. “I did tell him he could come over tomorrow, if he really wants to!”

“ok.”

You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. “Would you just say something else already?! I know you’re mad at me and all but—”

“woah, woah, hey! relax, bud, i’m not mad at you.”

At last you stop yourself, clenching your fists and resting them in your lap. “Y-you’re not?”

“you kiddin’?” Sans says, blinking (which shouldn’t have been possible but you’re beyond wondering about that). “i know what you’re saying, and i do know my bro can take some getting used to. i love him and all, but he comes on a little... strong. just ask any of the humans he’s met; heck, i bet some monsters could tell you the same thing.”

You fold your hands tightly. “It’s not just that, I...” _I don’t know if I can handle _any_ of this._

There’s a bit of a pause. Then, he declares, “you’re stressed.”

Your head shoots up. “How—”

“trust me, i’m more observant than i look.” He gives you a short wink before continuing. “seriously, though, don’t worry about it, alright? i know you don’t mean anything by it; pretty sure pap knows that too.”

Drawing in a breath, you let your shoulders relax. “Right. I... I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m thinking.”

Sans shrugs. “can’t really blame you. you’ve gotten us this far.”

What’s that supposed to...?

“anyway,” he says, pushing himself to his feet, “i should be going. see ya.”

You watch as he puts the chair back where it was before heading towards the door, then hesitates with his hand on the knob. He turns to give you one last look.

“you should really get some more lights in here,” he tells you.

Then he steps out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> frisk what the flip you doin
> 
> Also, non-overprotective brother Sans, who knew?


	9. Let the Hangouts Commence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You talk to Papyrus. ...More or less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! It really means a lot to me, I can't reiterate that enough!! <3
> 
> Have another chapter I guess, haha.

You forget to set an alarm.

Well, the second time around, anyway. You had set one when you got home but your dumb and tired brain had thought it best to turn said alarm completely off when it woke you up the next morning, not even bothering to change it to “snooze.” Now it’s seven-thirty, a whole hour and a half since then and you’re barely functional enough to stand on your own two feet.

Tugging on a pair of bunny slippers, you absently grab a robe from your closet and drape it over yourself like a blanket before hobbling downstairs. Almost immediately you get the coffee pot going and flop down onto your living room couch, definitely not in the mood yet for any sort of conversing with others.

Turns out, you don’t have a say in it. Not a minute later your cellphone starts ringing from upstairs, and you let out a prolonged groan before heaving yourself upwards again, shuffling tiredly away to the staircase again.

Naturally, it’s a wrong number, from someone who doesn’t even say anything when you answer; you think maybe you hear someone mutter an apology, but it’s muffled so you don’t count on it. You shove your phone in your pocket and head downstairs once more, only for it start to ringing a second time on the way there. You almost ignore it but pull it out again anyway, quite literally about to tear your hair out of your scalp if it’s another freaking wrong number.

It’s not. It’s William. Sighing, you pick it up. “Hello?” you say into the receiver wearily.

_“Hey, so I was—”_

There’s a knock at your door. You don’t move.

_“...You __gonna__ get that?”_ How the heck does he know?

“I guess,” you grumble; if you weren’t on the verge of pulling out your hair already, you _definitely_ are now. “Call you back later, yeah?”

_“Eh, don’t worry about it.”_

And... That’s it. He just hangs up, before you can even utter out a meager “bye.” Okay, what in the actual living—

There’s the knock again, a bit louder and more fervently this time. You decide Will can wait later and lumber over to your front door, trying to twist the knob only to realize your dumb mistake of doing so while having left it locked. You roll your eyes, flip the lock to the side, and pull the door open.

“Hello—” you begin, and any attempt at idle chat dies in your throat the moment you see who it is.

The skeleton in front of you doesn’t seem to notice the shift in your attitude, already holding out a gloved palm to you. “HELLO MISS HUMAN LARA! I AM HERE FOR OUR SCHEDULED CONVERSATION!”

Oh. Um. “Right,” you say, pausing to shake his hand. Pulling back almost awkwardly, you add, “Come in, then.”

You more or less lead him inside yourself, only to realize with a jolt you’re still in your PJs, causing him to almost bump into you as you skid to a halt in your living room. You bark out a quick, “Be right back!” and dart up the stairs, faintly hearing him call after you in confused concern.

Once in your room you discard your robe and tug on what you need before slipping into a new shirt and some jeans, then storm downstairs again quickly, finally pausing in front of the couch as you take in a breath.

“Sorry,” you say, once you’re ready to speak again. “I... Wasn’t really expecting you.” Stars, you probably look like a mess right now. So much for _ever_ being friends with this monster. 

To your surprise, however, after giving you a once-over—seemingly trying to decide whether or not something was actually wrong with you—he grins broadly. “NOT TO WORRY, MISS HUMAN LARA! I TEND TO HAVE THAT EFFECT ON OTHERS!”

“Because you show up without warning?” you ask, just a smidge of sarcasm in your tone.

“CORRECT! NYEH HEH HEH!!”

Sighing, you run a hand through your messy hair (which you also realize you haven’t brushed yet either, crap). “Well, uh... I’m making coffee. You want some?”

He shakes his head. “I APPRECIATE YOUR HOSPITALITY BUT NO THANK YOU! I WILL REFRAIN FROM DISRUPTING YOUR ABODE AND TAKING YOUR STUFF AS MY OWN!”

“Oh, you’re not taking anything from me. It’s really no big deal.”

“STILL! I AM HERE FOR IMPORTANT PURPOSES ONLY! BESIDES,” he adds brightly, “UNDYNE INTRODUCED IT TO ME THE OTHER DAY AND I DO NOT THINK I WILL LIKE IT EVEN IF IT’S NOT SPLASHED IN MY FACE THIS TIME.”

...Well. Okay, then. You walk towards the kitchen, pretending you didn’t just hear that, and pull down a mug from one the cupboards. “I’ll just be a second,” you call.

“ALRIGHT!”

You glance back to find him still standing the middle of the room, not moving an inch. You blink. “You know you can sit down if you want, right?” you tell him.

“OH, OKAY!” He sits down on your couch, folding his hands in his lap as though awaiting more instructions of some sort from you. Quirking an eyebrow slightly, you return to pouring the black liquid from the pot into the mug, like all of this is entirely normal.

After you’ve made your coffee the way you want it, you walk back into the living room to see Papyrus still sitting there, seeming to not have moved a muscle. (Figuratively, of course; unless he did have muscles? Somehow??) Slowly—probably a little too slowly—you settle yourself in the rocking chair across from him, a weird feeling of déjà vu sweeping over you as you sit your cooling mug on the table next to you.

“Um,” you begin, like the expert you are. “I’m sorry about... Yesterday.”

He meets your gaze without problem, looking curious. “FOR WHAT?”

“Y’know, being kind of... Rude.”

“WHAT? YOU WEREN’T RUDE TO ME AT ALL!” A confused frown spreads across his skull, but it quickly changes to a look of realization. “OH! IS THIS ABOUT ME SHOWING UP AT YOUR OFFICE?”

“Uh, ye—”

“WELL, I DO APOLOGIZE FOR THAT, MISS HUMAN LARA! I DIDN’T MEAN TO DISTRESS YOU IN ANY WAY.” He pauses, then goes on, “I PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU EARLIER I WAS COMING, IN HINDSIGHT. PERHAPS THAT’S WHY WE’RE NOT FRIENDS.”

You almost choke, even having not taken a sip of your coffee yet. “I... I-I mean, I didn’t mean we weren’t friends exactly, I...”

“NO, I GET IT! YOU MUST ASK TO BE MY FRIEND FIRST, RIGHT?” He stands up.

Now hold on! “Papyrus—” you attempt, jumping to your feet.

“NOW THAT THIS IS CLEARED UP I WILL LEAVE AND LET YOU DECIDE WHAT YOU WANT.”

_“Papyrus!”_

You surprise yourself with the firmness of your voice, but manage to not shrink away when he looks back at you questioningly.

“I was just going to tell you to tone it down a little,” you say slowly. “You can’t be showing up at my office like you did.”

He blinks at you, so you continue.

“I will admit I was... Unsure about this, at first. But I’m not unopposed to anything, I just needed some time to think over it, so... So if you really want to—”

“OH, REALLY?!?” Before you can react he lifts you in the air and squeezes you affectionately against him like he’s known you his whole life. Just a bit breathless, you loop an arm around him briefly before reminding him to let you go. As soon as you touch the floor again he bolts to the front door.

“I CAN’T WAIT TO TELL SANS!! HE’LL BE SO HAPPY!!!”

Huh?

“THANK YOU SO MUCH, MISS HUMAN LARA!!”

You can’t help but smile at him. “Please, just Lara is fine.”

“SURE THING! SEE YOU LATER!!” Eye-sockets quite literally sparkling, and beaming for all he’s worth, he gives you a giddy wave before “NYEH HEH HEH”ing out the door. Shaking your head in amusement, you chuckle a bit to yourself before picking up your mug of coffee and finally taking a swig, content to find that it’s still warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT BEGINS sorta
> 
> Also, I pretty much know what I want to do with the next chapter already so that might be out soon too? It depends on how much of a procrastinator I choose to be this month, lol. I'm thinking either that one or the one after that will probably be Halloween themed? At least, I'll try haha.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. Hangout(s) Start!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus invites you over and his brother is nosy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER (hopefully)
> 
> So yeah, the next chapter--and the longest one so far, yay! I'm so happy to have finished this one you don't even know agh. For those of you who don't know, I got sick last Sunday (the 15th, not this one), so that kind of delayed my writing for a bit. And then shortly after my PC ran into a little issue to where it got stuck on the lock screen and I couldn't log in. So that was.... Fun. Thankfully my brother figured it out for me, so kudos to him ahaha. 
> 
> I'm SUPER sorry this was so delayed, but wasn't much I could do about it at the time. I really hope this one makes up for it! I packed a lot of stuff into this one specifically lol. Hope you enjoy!

You’re, quite honestly, peeved right now. (Maybe another _p_ word if you weren’t such a goody-two-shoes with a mouth as clean as soap.) And of course, the reason for it is none other than William himself.

Well, technically not _all_ of it is his fault, but the fact that he failed to bring this up until now gives you a good reason to be mad.

“Just so you know,” he’d told you when he first showed up at your office, a few hours after you started work, “some guy came to me a while back and said he wanted to speak with you.”

“When?” you had asked, already a little bothered.

“A week ago. About the... Thing.”

Ah yes, “the thing.” Would it have hurt him to just say _T__he announcement and official signing-of-documents that declared monsters official citizens of __Ebott__? _“Let me guess,” you said. “This guy isn’t happy with how I’m running things.”

“Uh, something of that sort.” Great. Some jerk dislikes the fact you’d let monsters into the city; who knows how many people think similarly?

And this has been a thing for a whole week? And Will is only _now_ telling you this?

Yep. You’re most definitely peeved.

You glare up at him for a moment before turning back to the untouched paperwork in front of you. Dragging a hand across your face, you let out a sigh. “Stars, I can’t wait for this day to be over.”

Will shrugs, his dirty blonde hair looking just a bit messier than usual. “Well, saying that isn’t going to make it go any faster, y’know.”

“Shut up.”

The two of you sit in silence for a minute or two, trying to plan out what to do next. Eventually, he speaks up again, sounding a bit tired himself.

“Tell you what,” he says. “Why don’t you just go home early?”

Oh, as if that will solve anything! You open your mouth, ready to retort, but he fixes you with a hardened gaze.

“Seriously, Lar, I can tell you’re exhausted. Just take a break for once, okay?”

“But I can’t just...” You gesture forward helplessly with your hands, almost at a loss for words. “This is _my_ city, _my job_! I can’t—”

“Don’t give me that crap,” he snorts. “Remember last month, Miss ‘I Can’t Take A Break’?”

“But that’s my point! If I take a day off _now_, something could go wrong!”

He folds his arms, eyes piercing into yours. “I’m more competent than I seem,” says William flatly. “And if anything _does_ go wrong, I happen to know how to contact you. Not to mention,” he adds, “_you’re_ the one who said you were sure nothing of that sort could happen again anyway.”

You deflate. You had said that, hadn’t you?

“The way I see it,” Will continues, “is that either way, you’re going to burn yourself out eventually. So might as well prevent a portion of it now.”

“And the way I see it is that there’s no point if I’m just going to burn myself out later down the line,” you argue. He scowls at you.

“Come on, the least you can do is humor me.” Suddenly, his face lights up. “If you don’t go home right now, I’ll make you.”

...Wow. “Is that seriously all you’ve got?”

“Lara, I mean it.”

Oh stars, this man is serious. You laugh. “What, you’re resorting to children’s taunts now?!”

“Don’t tempt me,” he warns, leaning forward and swiping your phone from the desk in one swift movement. “Watch.”

“Wh-what are you—”

He scrolls through your contacts, stopping at one in particular, sending a snide smirk your way. Before you can react, he hits dial.

“Will!” you hiss. You spring up from your chair, your fingers grabbing at the air when he merely sidesteps to dodge your attack. “I am going to _kill_—”

_“HELLO?? MISS LARA, IS THAT YOU?”_

Crap. Finally, he lets you tug the phone back and you put it to your ear. “U-um, hey, Papyrus. Sorry, I wasn’t meaning to c—”

William shoves you hard enough that you lose your balance and almost fall backwards into your swivel chair, and you let out a yelp. You already hear the monster’s panicky voice through the phone before you steady yourself on your desk_. __“OH MY GODS, WHAT HAPPENED?! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!!”_

You glare at your “friend” fiercely. “I’m fine. I just—someone—”

There’s a gasp. _“DID SOMEONE PUSH YOU?!? DON’T WORRY, I_ _SHALL MAKE SURE THEY WON’T DO IT AGAIN!! JUST TELL ME WHERE THEY ARE AND I WILL FIGHT THEM FOR YOU!!”_

Woah, woah. That’s a little extreme. “No, no,” you say quickly, “he’s a friend.”

_“_GASP_!!!”_ He says the word “gasp” out loud. _“OH NO, THAT’S EVEN _WORSE_!! HOW COULD YOUR OWN FRIEND BETRAY YOU IN SUCH A WAY?!”_

William starts snickering in front of you, and you shoot him another glare. “He didn’t, it’s fine. He was just... Messing around.”

_“BY PUSHING YOU?”_

“Yeah.”

There’s a break in the conversation. Then, Papyrus states, _“SO HE IS PUSHING YOU FOR THE FUN OF IT? BECAUSE HE IS YOUR FRIEND?”_

“Uh, sure?”

Pause. _“...DOES THAT MEAN I SHOULD START PUSHING YOU, THEN?”_

Oh my stars.

Will, who has been trying to keep his laughter to a minimum this entire time, finally explodes, his bouts of giggling borderline hysterical. On the verge of growling yourself, you take a deep breath. “Never mind that. I...”

_“OH, RIGHT!! YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME ABOUT SOMETHING, PRESUMABLY BECAUSE I AM YOUR FRIEND! THAT IS INDEED WHY YOU CALLED ME, YES?”_

“Err...”

_“NO NEED TO CONFIRM IT! I AM THE GREATEST OF FRIENDS, AFTER _ _ALL! OF COURSE YOU WOULD WILLINGLY CALL ME! ON YOUR OWN!!”_

“Um—”

_“YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?! THIS MEANS YOU SHOULD COME OVER!”_

You sputter out, “W-what?”

_“OBVIOUSLY IF YOU CALLED ME, THAT CAN ONLY MEAN YOU WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH ME (WHICH I AM NOT SURPRISED ABOUT WHATSOEVER)! SO I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, GRANT YOU PERMISSION TO COME OVER TO MY HOUSE AND ‘HANG OUT!’”_

“Uh,” you squeak into the receiver, unable to say no. Nice, there’s officially no backing out. Thanks, William.

Speaking of the traitor, you shoot him one last glare before Papyrus continues.

_“NO NEED FOR WORDS! YOUR SILENCE IS ENOUGH TO TELL ME YOU ARE JUST AS EXCITED AS I AM! I WILL SEE YOU LATER, MI—I MEAN!! SEE YOU THEN LARA!”_

He hangs up as you try to think of a last-second excuse to avoid this. William begins laughing again, seeing your shocked expression completely frozen on your face. “Wow,” he utters, covering his mouth with a hand, as though that somehow hides his cheeky grin. “That was easier than I thought. Heh, remind me to use him whenever I need you to do something.”

You flop down into your chair and let your head hit the desk with a small _thump_.

* * *

You try not to let yourself be nervous as you step up to your neighbors’ door, but it just kind of... Happens. Mainly because you’re afraid you’ll screw something up if you make it clear to them you don’t really want to be here.

...Not that you hate doing this, but... You _were_ kind of forced into this. But, oh no, that makes it sound like you _do_ hate this. And you really, really don’t want to make it seem like that. Papyrus is super sweet and a good friend—Sans you’re less sure about, but he seems to tolerate you, at least. If you do anything to make them upset with you...

Maybe you’re overthinking this. You just need to suck it up and let whatever happens happen; maybe Will is right, and you just need a break from everything. It... Can't hurt to try, right?

You inhale and exhale carefully, then knock. Less than ten seconds later the door swings open. "AH, THERE YOU ARE LARA!! I WAS WAITING A FULL FIVE MINUTES FOR YOU TO ARRIVE SINCE YOUR LAST MESSAGE!”

You blink. “I,” you begin, but he pulls you inside by your hand without warning.

Their house is... Interesting.

The first thing you notice is the carpet. It's this piercing indigo blue, and to match it, the walls are a weird muffled shade of red, almost looking like it was painted. There's a small green couch in front of an even smaller T.V. in the middle of the room, and a gaping hole cut into the right of that, likely the entrance to the kitchen. Near the kitchen, a small coffee table resides, holding a... Rock?

Oh, and, in the corner of the room is a recliner with none other than Sans himself inside, apparently just having woken up at the front door opening. When he sees you he gives you a lazy wave, then immediately goes back to resting. Beside you, Papyrus huffs.

"HONESTLY, SANS, THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS SAY SOMETHING TO OUR GUEST!!“

“oh. right." He cracks open an eye-socket. "hey.“

“Hey,” is all you can think of saying in response.

“OH NO, I ALMOST FORGOT!” Papyrus suddenly shouts, making you jump. “I WAS SO BUSY LAYOUTING THE HANG OUT THAT I FAILED TO REMEMBER THE MOST IMPORTANT PART!!”

He quickly pulls you over to the couch and nudges you down to sit. “I WILL BE RIGHT BACK! SANS!!” He shoots a warning glare over at said other monster. “YOU BETTER NOT DO ANYTHING WHILE I’M ABSENT!”

“whoa, i’m shocked,” the shorter skeleton says, putting a hand to his chest to emphasize his hurt. “you think i’d _do_ anything? wow. my own bro doesn’t even know me.”

“UGH!! YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN! BE A GOOD HOST!”

Without another word he stomps his way into the kitchen, and before you can wonder more about what’s going on, Sans appears at the edge of your peripheral vision. You turn your head and jump back a good foot onto the other side of the couch. “What the—”

“well, i can’t be a good host if i’m sitting over there,” he tells you, as though that excuses it. Once you’ve calmed yourself down again, you try not to glare too hard at him.

“I swear, if you do that stunt one more freaking—”

“okay, okay. last time.”

“Are you sure?”

He gives you a weird look. “yeah, i guess. if it’s bothering you that badly.”

“It’s... It’s not. I’m sorry.” You let out a breath and glance away, trying to force the unwelcome tension out of you. You try to regather yourself, knowing you seem ridiculous right now. “I guess I never really introduced myself properly, did I?” you add awkwardly, because you need something else to talk about.

You turn back to him and stick out your palm, trying not to be too stiff. “My name is Lara.” Wait. Does he already know your name? He does, doesn’t he?

Sans eyes you inquisitively, and there’s something odd in his expression, almost making his grin seem fake; but, just like that, it’s replaced by amusement. “so you like introducing yourself the fourth time you see someone, eh?”

Your hand falters, and you feel your face glow hot in shame. “T-that’s not... I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was being so—”

“hey, don’t sweat it,” he assures, “you’re fine.”

His voice is strangely... Kind. Surprising you even further, he takes your still-outstretched hand (crap, you still have it out?) in his own.

And, too little too late you realize the issue with this action, as an abrupt farting noise splits the quiet.

You pull your hand back, startled, staring at his own palm that you now see possesses a small whoopee cushion. He dissolves into a fit of good-natured chuckles, leaving you to again question what has just happened.

Eventually, he collects himself enough to form some words on his nonexistent tongue, though a few more snickers slip past his teeth. “heheheh, you should really see the look on your face right now. it’s _priceless_.”

You try to say something, but nothing comes out. You feel the corners of your mouth twitch.

“i almost did that to ya the first time but figured that might be coming on a little strong, y’know? you seemed to me like the calm, serious type. didn’t want to rattle you.”

Was... Was that a pun?

“turns out i didn’t have to worry ‘bout that anyway,” he adds, shooting you a wink. “but hey, gave me an excuse to talk to ya more.”

Blinking, you find yourself merely giving him a blank stare in response; maybe for a bit too long, as his permanent smile appears to falter somehow. His eye-lights have shrunk slightly, apprehension clear as day on his face.

“shoot, i... i didn’t upset you again, did i?”

“No.” You smile, a little less hesitant than you were imagining. “That was, um...” Stars forgive you. “...Pretty humerus, actually.”

You and your bad attempt at humor...

But he doesn’t seem to mind. Even as you grimace at yourself, he laughs. “heh, that wasn’t too bad. you need to work on the delivery though. how about i teach you?”

Okay, what? “Hold on,” you say, incredulous. “You want to teach me how to _pun_?” Can you even call it that? What the heck is going on?!

“yeah, sure. used to be a certified jokester back in the day.”

You can’t believe this. You can’t believe this is happening.

“so? whaddya say?”

You’re pretty sure you’re imagining it, but he sounds almost hopeful. Before you can stop it, a disbelieving chuckle of your own escapes you. “Trust me, I would love to, but comedy isn’t exactly a career I’m pursuing right now.”

“hey, no one ever said world leaders couldn’t be comedians as a side job. there’s loads of _pastabilities_ out there.”

“Excuse me? That doesn’t even fit—”

“THE SPAGHETTI’S READY! YOU CAN COME HERE NOW!”

You shoot Sans a look, and he shrugs. “i don’t make the rules here.” He stands up, then holds out a skeletal hand to you. You hesitate, studying him carefully. He meets your gaze and grins cheekily. “c’mon now, i wouldn’t hit you with it twice in a row. what am i, a scoundrel?”

Upon deciding you trust him enough that there isn’t a second and invisible whoopee cushion somewhere there, you let him help you to your feet. “Can’t be too sure,” you retort back. “You’re the one insistent on holding my hand, aren’t you?”

You smirk as he blinks at you. For a moment you’re almost certain there’s a weird cyan glow that faintly colors his cheekbones, but Papyrus’s impatient voice cuts in again from the kitchen: “THIS IS PERFECTLY DELECTABLE SPAGHETTI AND YOU TWO ARE STANDING AROUND DOING NOTHING!! COME EAT IT BEFORE IT GETS COLD!!!”

“Sure thing, Papyrus!” you manage to say, feeling somewhat satisfied about your petty act of vengeance. You still have some dignity left, after all.

The dinner goes more smoothly than you thought it would; granted, that’s disregarding the meal itself.

You quickly realize Papyrus... Isn’t the best cook.

You don’t pin it against him specifically, mind you. And from what Sans tells you, it’s a lot better than when they first showed up on the surface. But the sauce is way too sweet for your liking, and the noodles are overcooked to the point where they seem burnt. (You won’t be surprised if that _is_ the case.) It is edible, however, so you’re grateful for that.

Papyrus seems to be awaiting your praise after your bite, and the last thing you want to do is ruin a perfectly good evening (so far anyway), so you smile and assure him you like it. You might as well have told him it was the best meal you ever had, because his expression is almost identical to when you’d told him you agreed to be his friend. You’re surprised he doesn’t hug you as he did then too.

Meanwhile, Sans seems intent on asking you questions. The first one being, “so, is your title official?”

It takes you a few seconds to realize what he’s talking about. “I mean, technically speaking, yes,” you answer, sheepishly. “My father wanted anything _but_ ‘president,’ really.”

You decide to leave out the part that being called “Leader of Ebott” was essentially your doing. (As in, you, _kid_ you, specifically proclaimed that’s what your father was, plain and simple. He just took it in stride.) The less they know about your weird childhood, the better.

“How’s Frisk?” you eventually find yourself asking, long since done with your food. “It’s been a while since I last saw them.”

Papyrus is eager to respond. “THEY ARE DOING QUITE WELL! THEY AREN’T NEEDED AS THE AMBASSADOR AS MUCH—THANKS TO YOUR VERY KIND GENEROSITY OF COURSE!” you blush slightly, “—SO MISS TORIEL WANTS WANTS TO ENROLL THEM IN THE LOCAL SCHOOL.”

“Oh!” You perk up. “I could help with that. They’d have to start in the spring though,” you add, a bit apologetic. “Halloween’s coming up pretty soon, and it’s in the middle of the semester for everyone.”

“RIGHT!” He nods in acknowledgement, but you get the feeling he has no idea what you’re talking about. “SHE ALSO WANTS TO BE A TEACHER AT THE SCHOOL, I THINK.”

“She told me about that,” you say with a smile matching his. “I hope they’ll be able to make that sort of progress. I imagine I’d only be able to help so much.”

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT, M—ERR, LARA. YOU REALLY HAVE DONE SO MUCH FOR US ALREADY!”

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” you laugh. “But Frisk is the one who convinced me. That friend of yours is something special.”

Papyrus beams. “INDEED!!”

It is then you notice that Sans is pointedly looking at the table, his eye-lights looking a bit dimmer than usual. He seems to feel your gaze on him and looks up, expression lax once more. “sorry, was zoning out there.” He winks at you again. “guess you could say i’m _empty-headed_.”

The other skeleton groans, and once again you find yourself snickering.

* * *

“ARE YOU SURE YOU HAVE TO LEAVE SO SOON? YOU CAN STAY A LITTLE LONGER, IF YOU WANT.”

You pat Papyrus’s hand comfortingly, trying to assuage his sudden despair at your “early” departure. “It’s almost ten o’clock, Papyrus. I’ve got work tomorrow.”

He sighs dejectedly; you feel a slight pang at seeing him sad. “BUT I HAD SO MANY THINGS PLANNED OUT FOR OUR HANGOUT! SURELY CONVERSING OVER DINNER ISN’T ENOUGH TO SUFFICE?”

“No, seriously, it’s fine. I had a lot of fun.” You smile up at him reassuringly. “You have my number too, don’t you? You can just text me if you’re feeling lonely.”

“YOU... WANT ME TO TEXT YOU?”

“Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Slowly, the light returns to his eye-sockets again, and you feel better. “R-RIGHT! I’LL TEXT YOU, THEN!!”

“Great!” you say, genuinely.

The two of you hug briefly—him squeezing you somewhat tighter, obviously—and you wave goodbye to Sans, who stands in the doorway. Feeling just a bit playful, you shoot at him, “Maybe the fifth time I see you, I'll finally decide that we become friends. Sound good?”

He chuckles, then gives you a fake salute. “sure thing, _president_ lara.”

You scrunch up your nose and turn away, huffing. “See if I invite _you_ to the inauguration.” You hear him snort behind you.

As you step off their porch, you find yourself looking forward to hanging out with your new neighbors again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter summary: Your friend and future love interest show you how to not be a stick-in-the-mud
> 
> Also i tried not to let this chapter be too cliche'd compared to other Sans x Reader fics and I hope it shows?? lol, also, sorry for my own attempt at humor, it's probably bad


	11. The One Where Dread Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you’re enlisted to babysit and talk to Sans about things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (late) Halloween everyone! Sorry that this is kind of late, took me a while to find inspiration to write this chapter haha. I put so many confusing things in this chapter too lol, I hope it makes at least a little sense. Admittedly I'm not very happy with it, I feel like I could have included more characters and character interactions in general, like interactions with MK. But oh well. I am hoping to use him more! Sans and Lara kind of took the spotlight here though, haha.
> 
> Again, thank you for all the hits, kudos, and comments, it's super flattering! I'm hoping to post a chapter for another story other than this one soon but we'll see. ALSO, UNRELATED BUT I FOUND MY NEW FAVORITE SONG. It's called Rise Up by Imagine Dragons and I was listening to it for most of the time while writing this chapter! It's so underrated and deserves way more love, so please go check it out!

The house is lit softly as you make your way through the yard, dodging a couple decorative pumpkins here and there. Once again you feel slightly anxious, mainly because you’re doubting yourself about whether this is the right address or not. _Surely the former queen would pick a more fitting house...?_

But then again, you run this city. It’s not like your place is very fancy either. (Besides, it worries you how much she’d be charged for a house like that. Not everyone is pleased with monsters living here, and you don’t exactly have complete control over them, regardless of your position.)

You almost trip over a balloon ghost on your way to the door, but you manage to not embarrass yourself and knock politely. There’s shuffling from inside before a soft, honey-sweet voice calls, “Just a moment!”

Not long after, the door swings open, and you’re met with Toriel herself. Upon recognizing you, a friendly smile crosses her maw. “Oh, Miss Lara! I am so glad you could make it!”

You smile back at her, shuffling your feet just a little. “Lara’s fine; and yes, sorry about the wait. Had to do some shopping today.” You chortle slightly. “Call me crazy, but Halloween’s one of my favorite holidays, actually.”

“That is not crazy at all! Frisk has a soft spot for it too.” Toriel waves her hand in a sweeping motion behind her, “Speaking of them, I am sure they would be happy to see you as well! Why don’t you join me inside?”

“I don’t want to barge in,” you argue, but she’s already giving you an indignant look.

“Nonsense! Inviting you in is the least we can do.” She beckons again and you give in, mostly out of courtesy and avoiding displeasing the kind monster.

As you step inside, an odd feeling of content washes over you. The interior gives you a homey vibe, the colors of the walls a light shade of gold and the floors some kind of light brown wood. (The sight of it is, ahem, much _calmer_ than that of Sans and Papyrus’s house.) For a moment, you’re even vaguely reminded of your mother, and those rare evenings when the three of you would sit around the fire, drinking hot cocoa and watching some cheesy movies.

You’re shaken out of your nostalgia when Toriel speaks. “I must apologize for the mess. We are still unpacking, I’m afraid.”

You hadn’t even noticed the boxes strewn about; maybe you’re just air-headed tonight. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” Your own room would vouch for that.

You settle yourself in a chair at the table awkwardly as the goat monster makes her way into the kitchen. She makes note that you can sit on the much more comfortable rocking chair but you insist you’re not staying very long. By then Frisk has shown up again; an odd expression crosses their face when they first spot you, but you pretend to not notice and smile at them. Their response is to scamper over to you quickly, just a bit startling.

“Hello, Miss Lara!” they chirp, returning your smile with a big fat friendly grin, and stars, if this kid isn’t adorable. “I heard you’re coming with us!”

You rub the back of your neck, almost sheepishly. _Not like I had much of a choice... _you think, just a bit bitterly. But aloud, you say, “I hope you know it won’t be the entire night, though; we walk down a couple streets and that’s it. Toriel’s rules.” You raise a brow. “And ‘us?’ I thought it’d be just the _two_ of us?”

“Oh, that was last minute, sorry. Sans, Papyrus, and MK are coming too.”

Well, this is news to you. And who’s MK? Part of you hopes they aren’t another kid.

Ugh, curse you and your unwillingness to turn down a former queen.

“Papyrus insisted,” Frisk goes on, gleeful expression unhindered by your currently doubtful one. “You can’t really say no to him, you know?”

Oh, you know.

“Alright,” you sigh, bending down to ruffle their hair. They giggle, and you fail to suppress another smile. “Now, go get ready. Those houses aren’t going to trick themselves!”

They give you a thumbs up before racing up the stairs. Toriel reappears a moment later, carrying two mugs. You begin to protest but she ignores you and holds the second out; grumbling slightly, you take it.

She sits down next to you at the table, already sipping hers, a similar habit to the king you realize. You ask, “What kind of tea is it? I mean, if it is tea.”

“Try it,” is her response, giving you a pointed look that kind of says, _You ask too many questions. _You proceed to do so and are pleasantly surprised; it isn’t as hot as you imagined it to be, nor as strong as the kind you made before. It does have a distinct flavor: an odd mix of honey and something herbal you’ve never tasted before.

It’s... Nice. But you still don’t know what kind of tea this is.

“Now can you tell me what it is?” This time, you give her a pointed look. She chuckles, smiling warmly at you.

“It is Goldenflower tea,” she says, setting her mug down. “It was quite popular among monsters underground. It still is, actually, but most of our kind has been migrating towards human teas as of late.”

The name of the tea sounds a bit familiar to you. “Is it made with those flowers near the mountain?” you inquire.

Toriel seems to ponder this, setting her chin in a paw. “...Technically speaking, yes. But I wouldn’t say it is as simple as that.” A strange look crosses her face. “Unfortunately...”

She stops herself when Frisk comes clambering down the stairs again, catching your attention as well. You stare at them, taking in their appearance.

Speaking of golden flowers...

“My child, what happened to your costume?” She pushes herself to her feet, facing them with a questioning gaze. “I thought we agreed on—”

“But—” Their voice comes to a halt, realizing they’d interrupted her, but Toriel gives them a look that prompts them to continue. “That one was really _boring_.”

“Frisk,” she addresses sternly, gesturing to the scattered flowers on their form, “I do not care if it is boring, why would you...?”

“They’re not buttercups, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Her shoulders seem to relax at this, but her scolding gaze doesn’t falter. “Whether they are or not, did I not tell you to do otherwise?”

Before they can respond, she goes on, brows furrowing as she studies them closely. “Did you... Glue them to your clothes?”

They blink up at her innocently. “It’s not permanent!”

Toriel draws a hand across her face, huffing out a sigh. You remain in your spot at the table, long since deciding it’s best you don’t make yourself a part of this. “Well, I guess I cannot change your mind." She gives them a gentle push towards you, "Run along now. You mustn't keep Miss Lara waiting.“

They nod, hug her waist briefly, then dart off to find a large bucket. Once they do, they bound over to you once more. “Okay, let’s go!” they say brightly.

* * *

Of course, the first house you stop at is Sans’s and Papyrus’s; to your surprise, however, neither of them answer when you knock. Instead, a short, yellow-scaled armless monster stands in the doorway. His eyes widen when he sees you.

“YO!! Frisk, you didn’t tell me _she _was comin’!” he shouts, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Oh, right,” Frisk says, not too apologetically. “MK, this is Miss Lara. Miss Lara, this is Monster Kid—though, he goes by MK. He’s the one coming with us.”

Of course. Another kid. Oh, but that sounds so rude on your part... Can’t you try not to be a jerk tonight? You smile at him. “It’s nice to meet you, MK.”

He grins a big toothy grin back at you, tail wagging behind you in a way that reminds you of a dog. “You’re, like, the most awesome human _ever_! Well, next to Frisk!”

“Um, thank you,” you respond, anxiety depleting slightly. Stars, this kid is sweet already. “Are Papyrus and Sans ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah! I’ll go tell them you’re here!” He darts back inside, leaving the door ajar; a few moments later, a lanky skeleton that you know very well takes his place, already beaming at you.

“IT IS VERY NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN, LARA! THOUGH...” He looks behind you at Frisk, eye-sockets narrowing in confusion. “WHY IS FRISK COVERED IN FLOWERS?”

The young human spreads their arms out, announcing, “It’s my Halloween costume!”

“COSTUME...?”

Just then, MK races out the door and into the yard, sporting a new white sheet over his form. Sans follows out at a much slower pace, and you blink a few times at him.

What the...

“Is that permanent marker?” you ask, really hoping it isn’t as Frisk giggles behind you.

The skeleton gives you a cheeky grin in response, stuffing his hands in his hoodie’s pockets. “nah, just dry erase.”

Oh, thank the stars—you don’t know how you would’ve been able to take him seriously with the words “spooky scary” scribbled on his forehead all night.

“WAIT A SECOND,” Papyrus cuts in, sounding as indignant as he is bewildered. “IS _THIS _WHY YOU WROTE ON YOURSELF, SANS?” He let out a gasp, glancing down at his battle body. “OH NO! WAS I SUPPOSED TO DRESS UP TOO?!”

“it doesn’t matter, bro,” he gives his brother a wink. “’m sure the humans won’t know the difference.”

“BUT IF EVERYONE ELSE IS COOL-LOOKING IN THEIR BRAND-NEW COSTUMES, WHERE WILL THAT LEAVE ME??” He sighed. “NOW I’M TEMPORARILY UNCOOL.”

“Hey, hey, that’s not true,” you cut in quickly, offering him a reassuring smile as he meets your gaze. “I’m not wearing a costume either. And even if you didn’t wear anything special,” you add, “I bet they’ll like your outfit anyway.”

Papyrus brightens at your words, before suddenly scooping you up in a hug. “OH THANK YOU, FRIEND LARA!! I AM SURE THEY WILL LIKE YOUR OUTFIT AS WELL!”

What, these old things? In this shirt and these pants, you’re lucky to be recognized as an authority figure at all; but you’ll be damned if you argue with this monster.

You thank him and he puts you down, beaming at you once more. “So, _now_ are we ready to go?” you ask.

Papyrus and MK nod eagerly while Frisk gives you another thumbs up; not expecting a response from Sans you turn on your heel and lead the way towards the sidewalk.

* * *

After doing a round on your own street and ending up with one-fourth of candy in Frisk’s bucket, you come to a sudden stop before the next street, causing everyone else to stop behind you. (Ah yes, apparently you were _this_ group’s own personal leader now.)

“Oh geez,” you say aloud, prompting a curious Frisk to inquire what’s wrong. You turn to them, obviously nervous.

“Not that this is a common thing,” you begin, “but sometimes, humans like to... Poison candy.” You reach out for the bucket. “Here, let me see it for a second, I can...”

“what, you gonna taste-test it?” Sans asks. There’s an odd sound to his voice; you think you might hear an ounce of trepidation in it somewhere, maybe even concern.

“No, no!” you amend, a bit alarmed at the implication. “I was just going to inspect it! Sometimes you can tell if it’s tampered with.”

So you do just that, and are a bit relieved to find no sign of the candy being messed with in any way. However, you advise your friends to be careful anyway, and your group continues onward.

You’re... Not entirely sure why you’re suddenly jumpy about this. You’d never heard of children dying from food poisoning on Halloween in your area before, so why are you being paranoid?

You think you know the basic reason why, at least, but you hate admitting it. It’s ridiculous; your city is known for being particularly kind to its citizens. You doubt there’d be an exception to that, even now.

Still...

“hey, you okay?”

You jump at Sans’s voice. Back in the present, you see that the other three are in front of you now, while Sans has seemed to fall in step with you; which isn’t hard, you’ve slowed down quite a lot.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just... Thinking.” You watch in amusement as he attempts to rub off the marker on his face, only managing to smudge it across him further. “Here, let me help,” you offer, leaning down the slightest bit to rub his skull with your sleeve before he can protest; and you pull away before you can see the slight dusting of blue on his cheekbones.

“thanks,” he mumbles, seeming to shrink into his hoodie.

“Don’t mention it.”

“no, uh... seriously.” You turn back to him, detecting the sincerity in his tone. “thanks. y’know, for helpin’ out my bro.”

“Well, of course,” you reply, a little confused. “He’s my friend, and...”

“no, i mean... pap doesn’t really... have a lot of friends.”

You stop, literally, then continue walking a moment later. “He doesn’t? W-why?” That... Honestly surprises you. Granted, it’d taken you a while to get used to him, but it wasn’t a matter of him being unlikable or something like that. Surely, someone like him would have more friends?

“yeah,” Sans responds. “probably think he’s weird. no one wants to be friends with a weirdo, huh?” He laughs bitterly.

Crap. No wonder Papyrus always wants to spend time with you. “Gods, I... I’m sorry.” You rub a hand across your forehead, suddenly feeling guilty. “I had no idea. I-I probably treated him so badly before—”

“hey, hey,” Sans interrupts firmly. “don’t beat yourself up for it, it’s not your fault. you didn’t know. and besides, it’s not like you were mean to him or anythin’, right?”

You’re not so convinced, but you get the feeling he means it, so you don’t argue. Instead, you keep walking, your eyes trained on Frisk in front of you. Something comes to your own mind.

“Hey,” you say, “I know this is out of the blue, but I’ve been meaning to ask and I keep forgetting.” (Nor will Frisk tell you themselves, you presume.)

“okay, shoot.”

“Frisk told me you already know about their... Determination. But do you know if they told the others yet?”

This time, it’s the skeleton’s turn to halt his steps, and you almost trip over your own feet trying to stop yourself. When you see his face, you almost start moving again.

Is it just you, or is his permanent grin suddenly looking... Menacing?

A moment later, the lights in his eyes flicker back to existence—albeit a bit dimmer than usual—and he looks back at you calmly, though something about his smile makes you tense. “what do you mean?”

“U-um...” You try to look at him without faltering, but find it hard. “They... They told me they could cheat death. And said you knew about it. D-do you?”

As though the sudden shift in his mood had never happened, his expression is back to normal, smile losing most of its edge. “oh. yeah, pretty sure they haven’t told anyone about that. you want ‘em to?”

Huh. Maybe you’re just imagining things. He seems perfectly fine now. “Well, they did promise me they’d tell them. I just assumed they would.”

“heh. right.” He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “i have a feeling they’re not going to do it anytime soon, bud. when they got their mind set on something, they tend to stick to it, regardless of what others think or do.”

Ah, wonderful. So nothing you said in the conversation mattered, apparently. ...Okay, that wasn’t really true, but still. Admittedly, you kind of feel betrayed.

Sans seems to sense your own sudden shift in mood as he says, “it’s nothing personal, i promise. honestly, i’m surprised they told you at all; they don’t usually do things like that unless it’s important. you must be pretty special.”

You chuckle to yourself. “Hardly. They just did it as a means to convince me in letting monsters live here.”

...Oh. Oh no, did you just...

“heh, makes sense.” To your relief, he doesn’t sound mad, or upset in any way. You let out a sigh.

“...Thank you.”

He shoots you a look. “for what?”

You keep your eyes trained on the sidewalk. “For not judging me.”

You feel his gaze bore into you, but you go on walking in silence.

* * *

By the time your group makes it back to Toriel’s house, it’s almost ten o’clock. Papyrus offers to drive you home, as they’re staying the night and you’re going back by yourself, but you refuse.

Before you leave, you give Papyrus and Frisk one last hug (MK kind of joins in on it too). You wave goodbye, watch everyone go inside the house, then turn around and start to head off, only to stop as your name is called.

“can i talk to you for a second?”

You turn back to see Sans still standing on the porch. “Um, sure. What is it?”

He makes his way over to you leisurely, looking almost as awkward as you’re currently feeling. “if it’s, uh... if it really means that much to you, i can try talkin’ to the kid myself.”

You blink. “You don’t have to,” you say.

“yeah, but i kinda owe ya. sort of like a favor for a friend, y’know?”

“...Friend?”

He shrinks inside his hoodie again. “well, yeah. i just kinda assumed now—”

“Actually, I’ve been looking for a bone-afide friend these days,” you quip. “Don’t get so rattled.”

Both of them are recycled, of course, but you think you’re improving somewhat. Sans also seems to think so, as soon, he’s wheezing with laughter.

Eventually, when you’re both able to talk again, you say your goodbyes to him and head for your own neighborhood, reaching your home in no less than five minutes. As you finally hop in bed, you suddenly realize:

You never figured out where Frisk was going that night. You forgot to ask.

...Why does this unsettle you, somehow?


	12. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get a bit irrational, then visit King Asgore again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> too many things went into this chapter oof  
I hope you like it anyway! And thanks for all the hits and support, you guys are seriously amazing! <3
> 
> (don't worry, the actual Thanksgiving chapter will be more of a mess)

A lot of things are changing.

For one, there’s a new recruit on your police force: Undyne. She, of course, is a monster, but what you are surprised about is her ties in with the king and queen. Apparently, she used to be the head of the Royal Guard, so they called it. You recognize her to be one of the monsters that first showed up, including the only other monster besides Papyrus that has hugged you before. (You also vaguely recall her being the one urging you most to make a decision.) And speaking of Papyrus, apparently she used to “train” him when the Royal Guard was still needed; training being another word for teaching him how to cook.

Suddenly, you realize why his food is the way it is.

Meanwhile, Sans has gotten your phone number, it seems. You assume he asked his brother for it but what you don’t understand is why he wants it in the first place. Apparently he’s still sticking by the notion you’re friends. Not that it’s a bad thing; you could use more friends.

The problem is, he’s not exactly easy to read.

For instance, the first time he texts you is while you are in the middle of work. It is nearing your time off but even so, you still have a lot of paperwork to sign and texting someone isn’t something you really want to do.

Plus, his message is only one, vague word:

** _Unknown: _ ** _hey_

You frown down at your phone, then type out your most professional response you can muster towards a greeting like that.

**_You:_ ** _ Hello. Who is this?_

**_Unknown:_ ** _ what you forgot me already? _ _i’m_ _ hurt_

**_Unknown:_** _i__ thought the president’s __sposed_ _to know everyone_

_..._Oh. Yeah, you should’ve guessed.

** _You: _ ** _Then maybe give me your name next time? I get a lot of messages like this._

** _Unknown:_ ** _ really? there’s clones of me out there? who knew_

You can’t help but snort. This guy’s such a dork; you definitely see the resemblance between him and Papyrus.

Smirking, you add him as a contact.

* * *

The next day, he surprises you again with another text; this one much different than the last.

**_Sans: _**_so_ _i__ need to ask you something_

** _You: _ ** _Okay? What is it?_

** _Sans: _ ** _how long you _ _gonna_ _ keep him in jail? the king _ _i_ _ mean_

You’re not sure why your heart drops to your feet; you’re not sure why your brain freezes completely, stuck in a loop of trying to figure out how to respond. You’re not sure why his words pierce you the way they do, and you’re not sure why you’re suddenly feeling like a terrible person.

Of course, you’ve gotten this sort of question before, from monsters, mostly. But each time, it doesn’t make you any less paranoid. _Did I mess up? _you wonder. _Should I have done things differently? Did I do the right thing? Was this the right option?_

_Am I good enough for this?_

_Am I wrong? Are they mad at me? Should I let him go?_

_...Should I send them back to—_

No. You’re not sending them back. You’ve made the right choices, you _know_ that.

...Still...

You type out your reply, which is a simple: _I don’t know._

He seems to drop the subject.

* * *

Sans is... Off, the next time you see him.

It’s around forty degrees outside at this time, and you decide it’s best to refill the birdfeeder before it gets much colder. (You like birds, what can you say?) Oddly enough, when you glance up to head back inside, you see the familiar skeleton on the sidewalk across the street.

Upon seeing you staring at him, he probably wears the same exact expression you have on your face right now; which is nothing less of a version of “surprise” you’d probably see some actor try to replicate in a T.V. drama. You try not to look dumb a moment longer and form the beginning of words in your throat, only for him to duck his head and spin around in the opposite direction.

“Wha—where are you going?!” you call to him, loudly. You can only hope the neighbors aren’t paying attention.

His attempt to leave—rather quickly, you note—is shot down as he appears reluctant to ignore you. He faces you again, his grin looking just a tad forced. “oh, uh... heya, bud,” he calls back, voice a bit croaky—probably unused to shouting, you presume. “didn’t see ya there.”

“Clearly,” you mutter to yourself.

You begin making your way over to him, because yelling at each other across the street is ridiculous—you prefer to look like you know what you’re doing at least a little. He seems strangely tense, giving you a vibe you didn’t know he could give.

“Is something wrong?” is what comes out of you first. “I’m fairly certain you’re avoiding me.” Now that you think about it, it’s not just this situation right now; he’s been pretty silent through text too. Part of you, the self-deprecating part, likes to think you’ve done something wrong.

...Maybe you have? This _is_ happening after he asked about Asgore.

Great, because of your foolishness you’re going to lose another—

“no, no, ‘m not avoiding you,” he cuts in, knocking you away from your thoughts. When you look back at him again, his eye-lights are rather big in his sockets, like he’s concerned or something. “i just...” He glances away for a second, then doesn’t say anything else entirely. Absentmindedly, you chew your lip.

“I’m... Sorry,” you tell him, pausing.

“for what?”

“If... I offended you.”

Sans stares at you like you just said the sky is on fire. “wh—... uh, no? why would you think that?”

_Maybe because you’re AVOIDING me? _you think, slightly annoyed. “Last thing we talked about was me putting your king in jail. I’d be surprised if I haven’t offended you yet.”

“please, it takes me a lot to get offended.” He chuckles. “but seriously, i have no issue with that.”

“Really?” you inquire for good measure, scrutinizing him closely by leaning forward. If you’re making him uncomfortable by doing so, he shows no sign of it.

“really, really.”

“Then why were you avoiding me just now?!” you blurt out, unable to keep your questions in any longer.

“...oh. that.” He chuckles again, almost nervously. “to be fair, thought _you’d_ avoid me after it.”

“...What?”

He’s certainly uncomfortable _now_, as he visibly shrinks away from you. “y’know, the asgore thing. uh...” He rubs the back of his skull. “there wasn’t really another way to ask it.”

Then why did he ask you in the first place...?

“sorry. i... it’s probably a sensitive subject, huh?”

“Well, yes,” you say, bluntly. “I mean, he’s your king. You think I wouldn’t be scared of you hating me?”

Oh joy, that’s going a little too far, isn’t it? Gods, why do you do this to yourself. Why do you let your emotions take control of you?

“hey, we talked about this,” the skeleton tells you. His voice is oddly kind again, and already you start feeling guilty. “’m not mad, or anything like that, okay? and i don’t hate you.” He hesitates for a moment; long enough for you to notice. “i promise.”

If that is the case, why is he acting like this? Why would he question your motives in the first place? What happened to not being judged?

“Okay, well,” you say abruptly, “I should go. I have work.”

“wait—”

You don’t give him a chance—which is something that will most definitely haunt you later. Instead, you cross the street back to your house, half-expecting him to follow after you. When you look back, for just a second, he seems to want to do that, too.

But he doesn’t. You go back inside.

* * *

You want to ask him if you’re doing the right thing, but you know he’s just going to say yes. He’s nice like that; much too nice for you, honestly.

_I know I don’t need to be, but I’m sorry _is really what you want to say, just to get it off your chest. You don’t. It wouldn’t make a difference, either.

Instead, you say something entirely different.

“How would you like to come over for Thanksgiving?” you ask Asgore.

He immediately stops sipping his tea, meeting your gaze with nothing short of befuddlement. “...Pardon?”

“Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful,” you continue, “and I want you to be thankful for how far your subjects and you have come. You can’t do that if you’re in here.”

“Miss Lara, I don’t think—”

“I know. But I’ve made my decision.” With that, you stand up from the chair. “You deserve this much, Asgore,” you tell him sincerely. “We can figure out what to truly do about everything later.”

The former king simply stares back at you, disbelief shining in his gentle golden eyes. “Are you... Are you certain about this?” he inquires, a sliver of hope quavering in his voice. “I-I am not sure if...”

“I’m most definitely certain.” You give him your best smile, broad and nearing the edge of giddy. “What’s the point of being on the surface if you can’t see it?”

He doesn’t say anything, and briefly, you think you might’ve said something wrong; then, he’s laughing. It’s weird at first, but not unpleasant, and much unlike his normal titters of amusement or occasional forced chuckles. It’s a deep, warm sound, and best of all, it’s genuine. And even though you can see him tearing up, you’re feeling delightful.

“Thank you,” he breathes after a moment, barely containing his joy as he wipes at his eyes, grinning widely. “Thank you, Miss Lara. You are... You are a very kind human.”

Your own smile softens. “Oh, I wouldn’t really consider myself that, Your Majesty. And just Lara’s fine.” You pull out the keys from your pocket; thinking back on the guards’ puzzled looks upon you taking them, you inwardly giggle.

“Honestly, I consider myself a crazy human!” you say brightly, stepping forth to unlock the cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lara why are you bipolar
> 
> Also, I'm just curious but what do you guys think her soul/trait is? I will not confirm nor deny anything. :3


	13. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make a hasty decision and... More or less open up to Sans.
> 
> Also, Thanksgiving, obviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN WHICH YOU GUYS RECEIVE A VERY LONG THANKSGIVING SPECIAL
> 
> and wow great title im so creative
> 
> i did mess up a lot on this one, took me a while to be satisfied with it lol, kept rewriting certain parts. also, lots of dialogue and breaks in the text, sorry. But it's the longest chapter so far, and most important (probably)! Super excited!
> 
> Anyway, hope you all have a lovely Thanksgiving weekend! ^^ (Or, just have a lovely week in general!)

You’re pretty much invited everywhere for Thanksgiving. Will invites you over to his house to have it with his uncle and parents, a few of the guards and policemen offer to take you out somewhere and have a get-together, and even some monsters who you’ve never met or heard of before invite you to visit them. Obviously, you can’t accommodate everyone.

This is especially made clear when you turn down _any_ invite you get. You do feel bad for letting some people down, but considering what you’re trying to do as of right now, you think it’s warranted.

“Are you sure about this, Miss Lara?”

“Yes! It’s too cold for you to stay outside.”

Still, the regal monster seems skeptical, as you make him sit on the loveseat. “That was not what I meant,” he states, firm but not harsh. “I do not want you bending over backwards for me.”

“I’m not. I’m just trying to help you out, Asgore.” You dart into the kitchen, starting up the tea; golden flower this time, which Toriel has lent you. You recall the former king telling you it’s his favorite. When it’s finished, you pour it into two mugs and step out into the living room to hand him his. He’s observing you with a mixture of concern and sternness, almost like how a disapproving father would be towards a child.

“It is not right for you to allow me into your home like this. Why not have me somewhere else? I do not want to be an inconvenience for you.”

“Nonsense!” you reply, sitting next to him, crossing your legs; probably looking a bit too casual. “This is temporary. I can find you an apartment later.”

“And how later is ‘later?’” he asks.

You don’t think much about it. You shrug. “Whenever I decide to find you an apartment.”

He sighs, appearing tired but not undeterred by your conclusions. “Excuse my rudeness; however, I do not think you understand what you are truly offering me here... By allowing me to stay here, you do not seem to fully realize what you are doing.”

“I do realize what I’m doing,” you counter, because really, you _do_. You might be crazy but you’re aware of what you’re doing here, and you believe you’re doing the right thing, even if some won’t agree with it.

Apparently, you said some of this out loud, because he says, “What about your job, Miss Lara?”

That makes you hesitate.

“What about your city? How many people will disagree, exactly? You must do what is best for your people.”

“...I _am_ doing what’s best for them,” you respond, after a moment. He looks at you, questioning.

“By letting a murderer run free? One who has killed several human children, no less?”

“Well, when you put it that way...” You chuckle half-heartedly. “But no, that’s not what I mean. I’m... Not entirely sure how my race will react to this, but... This _is_ temporary. No one should be away from their family during the holidays, even you.”

Asgore laughs a bit, shaking his head. “I really do admire your determination, Miss Lara, and I do not mean to downgrade your efforts. I know you are just trying to help everyone, to the best of your ability.

“But,” he murmurs, “when push comes to shove, this is about _your_ people, not mine. Monsters don’t need to be placated by having their king live free. They are already free themselves.”

“But your people _are_ my people now,” you argue. Again, the former king shakes his head.

“You must do what is best for your city,” he repeats. “Not everyone is going to agree with you, I know that well. Regardless, you do need to make a decision here featuring me; it must not be temporary, either.”

Gently, he rests a furry paw on your shoulder, offering you a reassuring smile. “I trust you will make the right one,” he murmurs.

You blink at him, instead of responding.

You’re not so sure.

* * *

You are clearly worrying some people, as you haven’t been replying to most of the texts you’ve received since you arrived at your office. You’re practically knee-deep in that paperwork you’ve been putting off for so long, though, so you don’t think it’s your fault necessarily. (The ignoring the _texts _part, anyway.)

Among said paperwork is mostly nonsense; okay, that’s being a bit harsh, but still. One is an attempted petition to get vending machines installed almost everywhere. You have no idea how that got past your security, since you specifically told them you don’t tolerate stuff like that. You don’t even want to think about _who_ on planet Earth lives in your city that thinks city-funded vending machines are a good idea.

...Okay, still being a little harsh there, Lara.

After that, most of the paperwork is just some additional information and forms you’ve already looked at, but you’re required to sign again to make official. Only when you’ve completed two-thirds of it in total do you check your phone, and are slightly alarmed to see how many messages you have missed. Most of them are from Papyrus, a lot of them from William, a couple from Undyne and like one other guardsman, and, most surprisingly, you even received a few from Sans. And that’s not counting the one he sent you just yesterday, which you keep forgetting about. (Aka the day you’d helped Asgore get temporarily settled in your house.)

And honestly, if you’re feeling bad about anything, it’s not responding to him specifically. When you read Papyrus’s messages, that guilt only increases.

**_Papyrus:_** _I KNOW YOU MUST BE BUSY RIGHT NOW BUT I WAS WONDERING IF YOU ARE GETTING MY BROTHER’S MESSAGES?? I BELIEVE SANS THINKS YOU ARE IGNORING HIM SO I WANTED TO MAKE SURE THAT’S UNTRUE, AS I’M SURE YOU AREN’T IN FACT IGNORING HIM!_

Oh geez.

** _Papyrus: _ ** _I’M SORRY, YOU MUST BE VERY _ _VERY_ _ BUSY RIGHT NOW! I WILL SEND A TEXT LATER!!_

** _Papyrus: _ ** _OH NO, HAVE MY MESSAGES NOT BEEN GETTING THROUGH?!? YOU ARE BEING QUITE UNRESPONSIVE!!_

** _Papyrus: _ ** _HELLO, IT’S ME AGAIN! I WAS SIMPLY WONDERING IF MAYBE YOUR PHONE IS DEAD?? I AM _ _FAIRLY _ _SURE I AM SENDING THESE CORRECTLY!! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOUR PHONE HAS DIED!_

You bury your face in your hands, trying to push a groan back down your throat.

** _Papyrus: _ ** _IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS! AGAIN! I HAVEN’T GOTTEN A WORD FROM YOU. AS YOUR FRIEND I AM BEGINNING TO GROW CONCERNED. I WILL TRY TO SEE IF SANS CAN’T GET A HOLD OF YOU._

** _Papyrus: _ ** _SANS STILL CAN’T GET A REPLY EITHER. ARE YOU FEELING ALRIGHT?_

** _Papyrus: _ ** _PLEASE SAY SOMETHING._

That one was only sent minutes ago. At that you can’t take it anymore; your hands are already flying across the screen, hastily typing out a reply.

**_You: _**_Sorry,_ _had a lot of paperwork and just didn't check my phone for a while._

** _You:_ ** _I'm really sorry_

His response is quick:

** _Papyrus: _ ** _OH OKAY!! THAT IS A RELIEF, WE WERE ABOUT TO COME CHECK ON YOU!_

“yeah, y’gave us a real scare, bud.”

You nearly fall over your desk when you jump to your feet, already scowling at the skeleton a few yards away. “How did you get in here?_”_

He rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “shortcut.”

You don’t really want to know what that means—mostly because his stare on you is intense, despite him feigning nonchalance, so asking about something like that is probably out of the question.

“you’ve been ignoring me,” he says, casually. It’s a statement, so you know you’re screwed.

“I had work to do,” you respond, voice only a bit nervous. “I’m sorry I made you guys worry about me but—”

“no.”

His interruption shocks you, somehow.

“’m not talking about right now. you’ve been ignoring _me_ in _general_. it feels like you have a sudden vendetta against me, or something.” He laughs, but it is obviously fake. “maybe warn me next time? y’know, before you decide to cut ties off?”

Oh no. No, that’s not it at all, you just— “It’s not like that,” you stammer, “_you’re_ the one that...”

_Crap._

“...the one that what?”

There’s no point now. You sigh. “I didn’t want to be asked about how long I was keeping Asgore in jail. I thought that would be obvious?”

His eye-lights shrink a bit, and a different expression crosses his face; guilt, maybe?

“i... didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal, honestly.”

“Really? Because it kind of is,” you chuckle humorlessly, before falling back into your swivel chair. He watches silently as you run your fingers through your hair, fidgeting.

“Look, I know you didn’t mean anything by it, and I don’t really expect you to understand, but...”

“i want to understand,” he cuts in. “...i owe you that much, at least.”

You nod slightly, trying to pretend that doesn’t mean as much as it does. “Having your own morals isn’t very easy in this job,” you continue, after a moment. “That sounds stupid, I know. But in all honesty, nowadays I barely know right from wrong anymore.”

“heh... isn’t that life all the time?”

You allow a small smile to grace your lips; oddly, it seems to make him relax a little. “Well, you’re not wrong. I guess what I’m trying to say, though, is I...” You swallow. “I don’t really have an answer, right now.”

You can practically feel the confusion coming off him, so you add, “An answer on what to do, especially with King Asgore.”

You hear Sans suck in a breath. “i never really expected you to,” he says, slowly. “i... sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it.” Pausing, you trace one of the papers with a finger, absently watching your own movement.

“...no. seriously. ‘m sorry, bud.”

Once again, he surprises you. You meet his gaze questioningly, and he looks like he wants to say something else. You wait patiently for him to continue.

“i should’ve known how it would make you feel. heck, if someone questioned one of my choices, i’d be pretty upset too.” His eyes flit to the floor, almost anxiously. “but i’m not... i guess i’m not good at knowing what’s best for people, exactly. can read them pretty well, but... can’t do nothing for ‘em, if you get what i mean. i tend to just... let Pap handle that part. heh.”

He rubs the back of his neck, clearly stalling. When he glances to you, you gently urge him to continue. “anyway, point is,” he goes on after another pause, “i expected too much of ya. so, i’m sorry.”

You try to ignore the small part of you informing yourself that there’s more to it than this; the voice telling you it’s simply a matter of distrust. (Even if it is, you don’t blame him.) You accept his apology, you don’t need to make things more complicated than that. Besides, is it really his fault in the first place? You were probably just being oversensitive.

And, the fact that he thought this would ruin your friendship... Hurts. It hurts a lot, for some reason.

You don’t want to lose a friendship with him.

“And my point is you don’t have to be sorry,” you decide on saying. “I should have let you know it was bothering me, not just go silent on you.”

Sans shakes his head, but he seems somewhat relieved now, his smile a bit more genuine. “don’t sweat it, bud. ‘m just glad this doesn’t change anything between us, tibia honest.”

“Of course it doesn—was that a pun?”

He grins cheekily at you. “was there ever a doubt?”

You laugh, despite yourself. “Nope, never; I knew it right down to my _bones_.”

He lights up completely at your own wordplay, however terrible it is, and you think his eyes are glowing a bit brighter.

...You wonder if you’re imagining it, but his expression seems softer too, when he looks at you.

Yeah, no, you’re probably just imagining it.

* * *

On Wednesday, the day before William is meant to have his Thanksgiving dinner, you get a text from him.

He... Wants to come over. To meet your friends. _Right_ _now_.

You’re not too fond of the idea at first, but you don’t have a say in it apparently, as he literally shows up at your door a few hours later. You fixate him with narrowed eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. “Don’t you have your family coming over tomorrow?”

“Uh, yeah? Why can’t I visit?”

“Because you’re busy? Or, supposed to be?”

He snorts, crossing his arms. “Not if I’m buying everything.”

“...You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

You punch him in the arm, trying to be scolding but failing miserably as you giggle. “Isn’t the whole point of Thanksgiving to cook your own food?”

“You made that up,” he says, wrinkling his nose. You laugh again.

“Fine, fine. Come on in.”

He follows close behind you, then all but comes to a halt on the threshold, gasping aloud.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding!” he whispers harshly to you. You shoot him a glare.

“If you’ll stop being rude, maybe I can properly introduce you,” you hiss. He shuts his agape jaw. You roll your eyes. “Sorry about that, Asgore,” you say louder, “this is my friend William. He’s not... One for first impressions.” You’re shoved lightly from behind.

Asgore smiles, rising to his feet from the couch and offering his hand politely. “It is very nice to finally meet you, Mister William. Miss Lara has talked about you a few times; you seem very close.”

Will steps around you to shake his hand, grinning a big fat friendly grin. “Yup! Known ‘er since I was in my ‘teens!”

Again, you roll your eyes. “Would it hurt you to speak like a normal person?”

“Yes, it’d hurt a lot, thank you very much. You know me, I wasn’t built like that.”

Asgore chuckles, retracting his hand while looking at the other human with amusement. “You seem like a bright young man. I think I recall seeing you when we first arrived. Am I wrong?”

“Nah, I was there. She left me in charge that day. It was kinda funny, actually,” he adds, glancing at you smugly. “That was the one day she decided to take a break.”

Yes, because you need a reminder of your poor choices then. You huff. “Says the guy who called me in a panic over not being able to handle ‘alien invaders.’ No offense, that was how he described you,” you tell Asgore, while your friend beside you pushes you again.

Meanwhile, the former king merely looks confused. “Pardon me, but what are aliens?”

Oh boy. Add that to your list of human things you have yet to explain to monsters.

“Never mind,” you say, shaking your head with a slight smirk.

About a half an hour later, the three of you are sitting at your table, munching on some cupcakes you’ve had stored in your cupboards. At exactly six o’clock, you get a phone call from Toriel herself.

“Hello?” you ask into the receiver, after swallowing your mouthful of cupcake, of course.

_“Greetings, Lara!” _the other goat monster responds cheerily, her voice soft and warm as ever. _“I am sorry if I am bothering you, but I was wondering if you would like to come over for... Thanksgiving, is it?”_

“Yeah, Thanksgiving,” you confirm.

_“Well, how about it? I know it is tomorrow, and I am regretful to say I did not plan much of anything, but I did bake a butterscotch pie, and Papyrus brought over some spaghetti.”_

“Uh...” You glance over at the two individuals sitting across from you. “Can I bring guests? If that’s alright with you, of course.”

_“Oh! Um, of course it is alright! The more the merrier!”_

“Great! See you, then! Bye!” You hang up rather quickly, suddenly excited. “This could be your chance to meet everyone!” you tell William, grinning from ear to ear. He lights up at this; you know he’s been waiting a while to meet monsters up close, since he didn’t live as close to them as you did.

However, when you look at Asgore, he seems a little less enthusiastic. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he smiles kindly at you; somewhat hesitantly, it seems. “It will be wonderful to see everyone again,” is all he says.

Before you even step up to knock on Toriel’s door, it swings open and you’re swept into a hug instantly. You start laughing. “Papyrus, you just came to my house a few days ago!”

“I KNOW BUT THAT WAS BEFORE I THOUGHT SOMETHING AWFUL HAD HAPPENED TO YOU!!” he whined, holding you tighter. “YOU ARE ONE OF MY DEAREST FRIENDS AND I CARE ABOUT YOU A LOT!!”

Oh gods, your heart. How’d you manage to become friends with this precious being?

He puts you down again after a few moments, and you think you hear him sniffle slightly. You pat his arm reassuringly, then suddenly turn to pull William forward, making him let out a started yelp of surprise. “This is William! He’s one of my guests. Say hi,” you whisper to said guest.

He gives Papyrus a rather pathetic wave, probably intimidated by the skeleton’s height. Then, his eyes light up. “Wait, you said _Papyrus_, right?” Slowly, a smirk spreads across his face. “Isn’t this the guy who taught you how to have fun?”

“He didn’t—”

“YOU LOOK FAMILIAR, OTHER HUMAN WHOM I HAVE NOT YET BECOME FRIENDS WITH!” Papyrus cuts in. “AND YES, I AM INDEED THE GREAT PAPYRUS!! IT IS NICE TO MEET YOU!!”

The skeleton monster shakes his hand vigorously, Will grinning back at him brightly. “Yeah, I already explained that to King Asgore here. I was there when you guys first showed up.” The lanky monster gasps loudly and lets go of his hand, darting behind you two to say hi to the king. Will glances at you, a glint in his eyes.

“I like him!” he declares, while you laugh. When you turn to go inside the house, you jump back slightly, but manage to quell your surprise for once. “Oh hey, Sans.”

At your voice, the other skeleton turns to you, having been looking behind you at Asgore, you presume. “hey,” he responds, sounding a bit aloof. You notice Will has wandered back to Papyrus, likely trying to listen in on their conversation; and most definitely butting in with his own words.

“i didn’t... make you do that, right?”

You move your attention back to him, frowning in confusion. “What?”

“y’know.” His voice drops. “you let the king go. i thought Undyne was just kiddin’ about...”

“No, nobody made me do anything,” you assure, “it was my own decision. I didn’t want him to miss out on some human holidays; figured he could use it.”

“oh.” He relaxes.

“Why are you asking?”

“just... didn’t want to force you into anything.”

“You’d know if I thought you were forcing me into something,” you point out. “I don’t take things like that lightly.”

“heh... i figured. you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, pres.”

“..._Pres_?”

“y’know. president.” He winks at you. You merely narrow your eyes.

“Being called President is one thing, but getting a terrible nickname is another,” you state flatly. This only earns you a chuckle from him, and you can’t keep up your façade for very long, as you’re soon chuckling along with him.

“HEY PUNK!!”

Out of nowhere you’re swept off the ground into an embrace, much rougher than Papyrus’s. You feel a sense of déjà vu as you quickly realize who it is. “Hey Undyne,” you groan, trying to loosen her grip so you can breathe again. This merely compels her to clutch you tighter, and she noogies your head with pure affection and no sense of gentleness whatsoever.

“Please... Put... Me down,” you manage to wheeze. “Can’t... Breathe...”

“HA!! THAT’S YOUR PROBLEM!!! IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE MY RAW STRENGTH, THEN—Uh!” Suddenly you’re set back down on the ground, a bit too quickly. “I mean, oops!! Fuhuhu...”

Before you fall on your face, Sans quickly grabs your arm to steady you. “Thanks,” you gasp out to him, and give the fish monster towering above you a slight glare. She chuckles again, just as a yellow lizard, whom you don’t think you’ve met before, appears in the doorway behind her.

“U-Undyne, p-please tell me y-you aren’t s-suplexing our guests,” she stammers. She squeaks as Undyne suddenly scoops her up, already shouting again.

“OH WAIT, you haven’t met Alphys yet, have you?! Well, this is Alphys!!”

Yeah, you figured.

“She’s our Royal Scientist,” Undyne tells you proudly, her yellow teeth gleaming at you in the dim light; if it wasn’t for her ecstatic expression, you would have considered it menacing.

The lizard monster, Alphys, is blushing a bright red as she squeaks again. “U-u-um, f-former R-Royal S-Scientist, a-a-actually.”

“STILL!” Undyne sets her down again. “She’s also a TOTAL nerd, just like you two!”

“U-Undyne!” scolds Alphys.

“Well, I’m not wrong!” She grins down at her affectionately, before suddenly taking off back into the house, laughing almost manically. Alphys covers her face with her claws, letting out a moan of embarrassment.

“Um,” you say firstly, because you don’t know what else to utter. Then, you stick out your hand towards her as she moves her hands slowly back down to her sides. “It is nice to meet you, Alphys. Were you really the Royal Scientist?” you ask suddenly, surprising yourself with your forwardness. “That’s cool!”

“U-um, y-yeah,” Alphys stutters, taking your hand tentatively. You have a feeling her anxiety towards you isn’t personal, so you don’t take it to heart when she pulls away again quickly. “I-it’s nice to meet you t-too, Miss Lara.”

You offer her a calm smile when she glances back at you; which seems to relax her, if just a little. “S-so, um... Y-you brought King Asgore?”

“Oh, yes! That reminds me!” You glance backwards and, sure enough, William has obviously joined in on Asgore and Papyrus’s conversation. “Hey, guys! We should probably head inside, it’s starting to get cold out.”

Papyrus is first to dart around you, shouting something after Undyne, and Will bounds after him into the house like a kid high on sugar. You screech at him to slow down, and you and Sans are next to enter, Alphys and Asgore trailing behind.

The house smells faintly of cinnamon, instead of the herbal smell you walked into on Halloween. You briefly wonder where the cinnamon is coming from when you are attacked yet _again_ with a hug. You glance down at the small offender and ruffle their hair playfully. “Frisk, you have to start giving me warnings. At least have a bell with you, or something.”

The child giggles, pulling away to look at you. “Mmm, I’ll think about it!”

“You better!”

It is then you remember:

“Frisk, wait, I—”

They’re already running towards the kitchen. You sigh. _I suppose I’ll never get it out of them; right now, anyhow._

Sans, who’s been weirdly at your side this entire time, asks, “something wrong? you feelin’ alright?” He moves his gaze to Frisk, almost like _they_ are at fault for something. Granted, this does have to do with them, but... What’s that about?

“No, no, I’m fine,” you mumble, walking forward. “I’ll go see if Toriel needs any help.”

Dinner is, quite honestly, amazing. The spaghetti’s much better than you thought it would be, and as soon as you taste Toriel’s pie for dessert, you’re addicted. You have to force yourself to not take more than two slices, even when they insist you can take another.

Frisk seems in a similar boat, as they heap one giant piece onto their own plate; Toriel has to stop them before they grab another one just as big, informing them they shouldn’t have so much sugar in one night. You can barely hold back an amused chuckle.

Unfortunately, your mood diminishes slightly upon seeing Asgore sitting at the very end of the table, purposely avoiding Toriel’s gaze. Toriel is just as dismissive, if not more so, and you catch her shooting him a cold stare every now and then. Asgore either doesn’t notice or is trying to ignore it; he looks very uncomfortable all the same, and you realize why he hadn’t really been thrilled to come.

Granted, you’ve known Toriel never had a very high opinion on her ex-husband. You’re perfectly fine with this—as in you understand her reasoning—but right now, it’s almost... Childish. You’re not trying to judge anyone here, but...

“So, Will,” Undyne says, resting her elbows on the table as she leans closer to your human friend. “What’s your thing?”

“My what?” he asks with a mouth full of pie.

“What’s your job? You own a city too, or...?”

He laughs, still with the food in his mouth, which causes him to spit out some crumbs on his plate. Stars, you could slap him right now.

Thankfully, he thinks better of it and swallows. “Oh, I wish! Nah, I’m in a band.”

Oh, here he goes again. Undyne practically jumps onto the table in her excitement. “WOAH, REALLY?!”

“Yeah!” He points at himself, attempting to strike a “cool” pose. “Best cello-player around, baby!”

“Cello...?” Undyne sits back a little, obviously confused.

“It’s a string instrument,” you explain. “You’ve heard of a violin, right?” At that, the monster groans, falling back down into her chair.

“Okay, less cooler than I thought,” she mutters. You hear Alphys titter quietly beside her.

“Hey, I’m super freakin’ good at it though!” William exclaims in offense. “You haven’t heard cello from _me_ yet; it’ll blow your minds!”

“Sure it will, Will,” you chirp. He switches his glare to you.

“Dang it!” Suddenly, Undyne’s fists pound the table, making everyone jump. “I was thinking, like... An electric guitar or something!!”

“Oh, I play guitar,” you pipe up without really thinking, then immediately shrink back as everyone turns to _you_ now. “I-I mean... Not as much, but I still know how to do it. It’s acoustic, though,” you add sheepishly.

Still, Undyne nods approvingly. “Sweet! How about you show me sometime?”

“Uh, I don’t know...” Why are you suddenly nervous?

“I BET YOUR PLAYING IS VERY PRETTY!!” Papyrus chimes in, and oh man, you don’t think you can say no to that.

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” you tell them. Then, an idea comes to you. Oddly delighted now, you add, “Actually, that’s a good idea! I could introduce you guys to some human songs!” Okay, that sounded better in your mind.

“OOH! You think you could play some anime?!”

“Err, maybe,” you say. “I’d have to learn some first, as I don’t know many songs.”

“What?! Why not?!!”

You shrug. “Never watched a lot of anime; was never really interested, I guess.”

“WHAT?!”

Thus, you are pulled into a ten-minute-long lecture of how great anime is and how “stupid” it is that you’ve chosen not to watch it this entire time; courtesy of Undyne, mostly, but Alphys adds some points in here and there.

If anything, you’ll watch anime to pacify them, you suppose.

After everyone’s finished eating, you decide to call it quits. _Everyone _complains in response, but you insist you have work in the morning, and William has to set up a meal tomorrow for his own family. This seems to get the point across, but it doesn’t stop them all from pulling you into hugs. Papyrus and Undyne are the most enthusiastic, of course, while Toriel’s embrace is as gentle as it is loving. You’re reminded of your mother again, which makes you feel a little bittersweet.

And Sans doesn’t hug you. You hug him. You’re not sure why you do it, exactly; it just feels right. Apparently, however, you half-expected him to be disgusted with you afterwards, pulling out of the embrace instantly.

He doesn’t. He’s every bit as surprised as you are for initiating it, but he doesn’t seem repulsed by you, necessarily.

You apologize anyway.

“I’m really sorry,” you stammer out, backing away faster than you thought possible, “I wasn’t sure if—that is—I mean, I know we’re friends but you probably didn’t want to be hugged and—”

“hey, hey, relax.” His voice is strangely calm, despite his eye-lights having shrunk and his perma-grin looking unnaturally wide in bewilderment. “it’s fine.”

“...It is?”

You’re not entirely sure why you were expecting a different reaction.

“yeah. we’re friends, it’s cool.”

Gods. Can you look anymore like an idiot?

“...Okay, well,” you say slowly, “we should really... Be heading off.”

“uh... yeah.”

You stare at each other for a few moments. You’d almost never felt so awkward in your life. (Almost.)

You wish the ground would swallow you whole by this point.

Once you finally get your act together after... Whatever _that _was, you lead Asgore and William back to your house. William, _shockingly, _is tired by this point, so he leaves to go home rather quickly. After seeing that the former king of monsters is settled for the night, you climb into bed. You’re not feeling that tired just yet, so you end up pulling out an old book you’ve been wanting to read again, just to pass the time by.

As you read the first pivotal point in the story, you’re struck with an odd feeling, like... This has been done before, somehow. Maybe not with you, but... With someone else.

Someone who wasn’t so kind, maybe.

But the feeling fades and soon, you’re exhausted. You put the book down and go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) 
> 
> Be thankful for what you have, especially in the present~


	14. Unnecessary Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you go out with Sans; to evaluate a makeshift restaurant, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> platonically
> 
> you go out with him to a restaurant completely platonically of course
> 
> totally
> 
> But in all seriousness, we need to have a small Ted Talk for a sec lol. "Slow Burn" is in the tags for a reason. Technically speaking, Sans and Lara aren't even in the real friend stage yet. Before anything else I want to strengthen that platonic bond between them. It's super important, trust me. I just want to make that clear, as I'm not trying to rush this thing, as tedious as it might seem. Please keep that in mind!
> 
> And honestly, I'm just as unhappy about it as you guys probably are lmbo. I made the plot a lot more complicated than it was going to be originally and I didn't fully realize how hard it would be to write a slow burn in general, particularly here 'cause... You'll see what I mean. :') There won't be actual romance for quite a while; a long while. Even if the obvious "feelings" start.
> 
> That being said, I hope you guys find it enjoyable anyways! I know romance is what most people are here for so bear with me haha. Even so, by having it come slow and steady, it'll make the conclusion all the more satisfying, I swear! I'm counting on it, and I'm super excited to share all I have in store for this fic, romance or no romance.
> 
> Okay, Ted Talk over. Hope you enjoy this chapter! It's shorter than the last one, as it's like a precursor for the Christmas chapter I'm planning. ^^

For some reason, you’re not expecting to get a request from a monster. Said monster—“Grillby,” he goes by in the letter he sent you—asks that you give him access to an abandoned building you forgot existed. You write back and tell him that legally, he’d have to buy out the property in order to use it; in response, he mails you the exact amount of money required for the property. (In gold, obviously, as you’d officially made that a currency now. And seriously, _gold_? How they’d get their hands/non-hands on _that_?)

It’s definitely peculiar, yes, but you don’t get the sense this is guy has bad intentions. This is further solidified when you return home later, only to find a certain skeleton waiting in your driveway. He looks somewhat stunned when you pull up, like he wasn’t expecting you to arrive so quickly; when you get out of your van, he sidles up to you, looking somewhat sheepish.

Before he has the chance to say something, you ask, “Are you stalking me?”

His eye-lights shrink slightly at that. “wh—no!” As you start to chortle, his grin twitches.

“Pfft, relax, bonehead. I’m just kidding.” It’s pretty easy to catch him off guard, so it seems. “Do you need something from me?”

“uh, yeah, actually.” His irritation seems to subside. “i was wonderin’ if you could do me a favor.”

“Okay. It depends on what it is, though,” you tell him.

“what, ya think ‘m gonna make you break the law or something? aren’t you the one that enforced it?”

You laugh slightly. “Yes, but I have standards that _don’t _have to do with legal issues. For instance,” you add, “you can’t get me to sing no matter how much you want me to—and I _mean_ it, so if that’s what you have in mind then you can forget it.”

It’s Sans’s turn to laugh, looking at you incredulously. “wait, so, you can play the guitar but you don’t want to sing?”

“Well, they are completely different things. It’s like if you got Will to play in a jazz band. He hates jazz,” you clarify for context.

“really?”

“Yes, really. He prefers classical, which is why he took up the cello. They’re kind of like opposites, in a way.”

“and what about you?” he asks, sounding curious. “what made you do guitar?”

You hesitate a bit before shrugging; thankfully, it’s not too obvious. (At least, you really hope it isn’t.) “My dad, I suppose. He loved music. I do too, and I love guitar, but I mostly just did it for him in the beginning.”

You’re not entirely wrong. You’re just... Maybe not giving all the details. Not yet.

He doesn’t need to know.

Something must have accidentally slipped into your expression because you notice Sans is looking at you intently; you quickly force a smile. “Anyway, I’m getting off topic. What do you want me to do, exactly?”

“oh yeah. that.” He seems to put off your odd behavior as well, which relieves you more than you care to admit. “my pal grillbz told me he bought some property from you or something? and he wants you to come check the new place out.”

You raise your eyebrows. “He does?”

“yeah. to meet you officially too i guess.”

“Alright, well...” You jab a thumb at the vehicle behind you, “Want to catch a ride?”

He gives you a lazy grin, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “nah, no need. i know a shortcut.”

There’s that weird term again. Seriously, how can this “shortcut” be any faster than a car? From the looks of it he got here by walking, so...

“No, really, we can take my van,” you press. “Just because _you’re_ choosing to be lazy doesn’t mean I am.”

“ouch. you’re hurtin’ my feelings.” Still, he doesn’t look particularly offended. “but, since you insist...”

You blink, and suddenly he’s gone. You whip around, thoroughly puzzled, before your wide eyes rest on the passenger side of the car; Sans rolls the window down just in time to hear you shriek at him, “How did you get in there?!”

“hey, you said you didn’t want to take a shortcut,” he says. “if you don’t wanna know my secrets, that’s your problem.”

Seriously?

You narrow your eyes, and reluctantly trudge to the other side of the van, opening the door with a sour expression. You give him one last glare before hopping up onto the seat, ignoring his snickers as you start the engine.

The building is rather small, and on a somewhat cramped block, but it seems cozy enough. It’s also not the prettiest looking thing you’ve seen, with its dirt and grime and rotting wood on the outside, but when you step inside, you’re met with a sight entirely different.

Clearly, some work has gone into the place, cleaning it up from whatever rut it was in previously. There’s a warm, soft glow coming from some yellow lights on the ceiling, and the cold of the autumn air outside has completely dispersed. A small group of monsters is installing some shelves in the back, and there are a few tables and booths scattered here and there, having been put there by the crew earlier. If you have to guess, you’ll say they’re turning this building into a restaurant; you don’t know what else it could be, other than a bar, maybe.

Sans has already left you to go greet what appears to be a tall flame monster. You hurry to join him, assuming this guy to probably be Grillby based on the way he’s directing everything. (His name is also on the outside of the building, you recall.)

Looking at such a monster is a new experience for you, considering he’s literally made out of fire. He has glasses on his face too, apparently where his eyes are, and he’s in a fancy suit. You stick out a hand towards him politely, only to quickly draw it back a second later, not even pondering how rude that might seem. “I’m sorry,” you say a moment later, looking very awkward. “I just...”

A crackling sound comes from him, and you get the sense he’s laughing at you, in a way. Then he sticks out his own hand for you to take. “It is just magic, Miss Lara,” he assures you softly. “It won’t harm you.”

Testing that theory, you tentatively reach out to poke his palm with a finger, like a child would. You’re relieved to find the sensation isn’t scathing, just pleasantly warm, and you stammer out an apology before finally shaking his hand. Sans chuckles beside you, so you shoot him another glare.

“The fire we’re used to happens to like cooking flesh, so excuse me,” you direct at him irritably, which only makes him laugh harder. You feel a tap on your shoulder and you turn your attention back to the fire elemental, already stammering out another apology. “Sorry, I don’t mean to offend—”

He shakes his head. “No, you did not offend me. I was just wondering if I could get your opinion on my restaurant, if it’s alright with you.”

...Wait. He’s asking _you_ to evaluate his restaurant? You’re not a food critic. You’re not _any_ kind of critic! “With all due respect,” you begin slowly, “I don’t think I’m quite... Suited to give you a valid critique?”

Grillby shakes his head again, another quiet bout of crackling coming from him. “I’m not asking for a critique, Miss Lara,” he says with slight amusement. “I’m asking for your _opinion_. Here,” he fetches a menu from behind him, “order something from here and let me know what you think. That’s all I’m asking.”

Well, way to put the pressure on you.

Sighing, you take the menu from him anyway, glancing it over. You decide to go simple and hand it back a few seconds later. “I’ll just have fries, please,” you inform, trying to pretend this idea isn’t stupid.

Grillby nods to you before asking, “Would you like to sit somewhere?”

“Uh, sure.” Wow, aren’t you eloquent.

By your request, he leads you over to a small booth next to a window. You scooch yourself inside it and give him a small smile before watching him walk away. Before you can wonder where Sans went, you hear shuffling and observe as he settles himself on the seat across from you. He notices your stare on him and his smile widens; then he snatches up a ketchup bottle from the table.

But there’s no food yet.

Um?

“What are you—” you begin, only to swallow those words as he pops the cap off and starts chugging it like alcohol. A moment later, you can only gape as he puts a half-empty bottle back on the table, grinning wickedly at you.

“What the frick,” is all you can manage. His response is to full-on _guffaw_, a sound that you’ve never heard from him before and something that kind of makes you jump. Then, you find yourself snickering too. “Seriously, what the... Did you _plan_ this?” He just winks and shoots finger-guns at you, causing you to laugh harder.

You recover just in time for your fries to arrive in front of you, and even then, you can’t keep a straight face. At one point he even offers the ketchup to you, and you fervently refuse.

“Don’t tell me that’s just a thing you do,” you wheeze out eventually, running your hand through your hair absentmindedly. “_Is_ that just a thing you do?”

He merely shrugs. “who’s asking? ”

“Who’s— What?!” you laugh. “_I’m_ asking!”

“ah ah, but you don’t want to know my secrets, remember?” he says cheekily. You reach across the table and shove him lightly. His grin somehow broadens more, and he steals one of your fries; something he’s been doing since you got them.

“You made that up,” you retort, slapping his hand away as he tries for another.

“eh, does it really matter?” He shrugs again. “there’s not much to know about me anyway.”

“I highly doubt that. Everybody’s got something interesting about them.”

“yeah? well, what’s interesting about you?”

You don’t realize his own avoidance of answering as your eyes dart to your hands. “Nothing,” you reply, and you mean it.

“i highly doubt _that_,” he echoes.

“No, really. I’m probably the least interesting person you’ll ever meet.”

“hey, it works both ways, bud. if ‘m interesting, then you’re interesting too.”

You decide you don’t want to continue this conversation, so you chuck a fry into your mouth. Fortunately, it seems he senses your reluctance and switches subjects. “so, uh, that friend of yours... his name’s will, right?”

You nod. “I’ve known him for a long time,” you say. “Nine years, to be exact.” You chuckle. “Honestly, I wonder where I’d be without him sometimes.”

“how old are ya now?”

“I turn twenty-eight next spring. He’s about twenty-three, I believe.”

His brow bones furrow. “you’re five years older than him?” he asks, sounding confused.

“Uh... I think so? Almost, anyway.” Unease pricks at you, suddenly. “Why?”

“how’d you guys meet?” the skeleton presses, and now you really want to switch back to that other topic.

You quickly try to think of an out and are relieved to find your basket of fries empty, so you jump to your feet and practically jog to the trashcan nearby. You hear Sans trudge behind you but pay no mind as you thank Grillby for the meal, tell him what you thought of it, and head out the door.

The drive back to your neighborhood is quiet, and Sans doesn’t ask you anymore questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make the math clear here (aka what Sans figured out and what confused him):
> 
> Lara and Will have known each other for nine years. Lara is (almost) 28, which means nine years ago she was around 19.
> 
> William is 23, which means he was 14 nine years ago.


	15. Decking Halls and Dancing Around Issues (The First Part)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where you kind of just wing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO, I was originally going to make the Christmas chapter one full thing and post it on Christmas Day or something (if I could) but that didn't end up happening?? I kind of have to split it up into two different things, sorry. It didn't make sense otherwise, I don't know how to explain that haha, like, it's super clunky and this is the only way I could make it less clunky. I'm also making it like this so it doesn't stress me out as much to get it done on time, so I can worry about writing the main part the way I want. Agh. This is what it's like to be a writer lol. Hope this suffices for now. ;w; 
> 
> Special thanks to BlueBerrySora for leaving your feedback on the last chapter, it means a lot! And thanks to flamingburningfandomtrash for being an awesome friend and writer! Thanks to all the newcomers as well who might start reading because of this or the next chapter! Just, thanks to everyone reading this in general haha, I feel great knowing there's people still interested in this train wreck of a story lol. I love every one of you guys, have a wonderful day! <3

It’s currently a little over an hour ago, after coming home from Grillby’s, and you’ve taken to sulking for a bit, weighing your options. You should _really_ explain things to Sans, but...

It’s stupid, you know: getting so hung up over a thing of the past. Something that’s not even his fault in the first place. He asked an innocent question; of course it was weird of you to meet William when he was so young, as you were practically an adult yourself at the time.

But, you argue, Sans was overstepping it a little. He didn’t know it’d be a sensitive subject for you, yes (to be honest, you didn’t even know you’d still be so upset over it even now), but shouldn’t he have just... Let it go, when he saw you were uncomfortable?

Ugh. You have no right to blame him. You know that. You’re being really immature, and you should really apologize for your behavior.

...Well, you _would have_, if you didn’t get a call from William first.

_“__Yo__,”_ is the first thing he says.

You roll your eyes, your legs kicked up over the armchair of your couch. “What do you want, dumbo?”

_“Sans called me.”_

“...He did?” How the flip did he get his number?! Are skeletons, like, good at guessing phone numbers?!

_“Yeah. Did you...” _He audibly pauses. _“Tell him about all of it?”_

“No,” you sigh, “just the age gap and how long we’ve known each other.”

_“__Oof_ _ yeah, without context that’s going to seem super weird.”_

You chuckle despite yourself. “Gods, it’s... I really am being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

_“Hey now,” _he says softly. _“It’s not your fault, okay? It’s still a sore subject for you, no one can blame you for that.”_

“I know but you don’t have anything to _do_ with it!” you complain gruffly, finally voicing your frustrations. “I don’t want this tainting our friendship, Will. I don’t want everything we’ve done together reminding me of—”

_“I know, I get it.” _

There’s another bought of silence. You bite your lip, almost absentmindedly.

_“Um. _ _Y__ou... Want me to come over?”_

You shake your head automatically, then realize quickly that he can’t see the action. “No, I’ll be fine. I just need to distract myself with more work, I guess.”

_“Oh, come on, it’s almost Christmas! I don’t care what kind of stress you’re under, Lar, working isn’t going to help you. By the way,” _he goes on before you can interrupt, “_d__id you even clarify things for Sans yet? He sounded __sorta__ upset, don’t tell me you’re avoiding him? He’s obviously worried about you enough to contact me about it.”_

Somehow, you can’t imagine a guy like Sans worrying about you. Will must be exaggerating; Sans was probably just trying to get some answers out of him. “I was going to, but then you called me.”

_“Geez, pin the blame on me, why __dontcha__?” _He laughs, obviously unoffended._“Heh, well, I’ll leave you to it! And hey,” _he adds quietly, his tone flattening itself out to make your smile falter slightly. _“I mean DO IT, okay? Don’t just say you’ll do it then start with the avoidance thing again; DON’T waste this. You need more people in your life who will worry about you.”_

You giggle a bit, but your heart isn’t really in it, and you’re almost relieved to tell him goodbye and hang up.

You _don’t_ need anyone worrying about you. You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, and even if you might not be, it’s not your job anyway. This is about others, not you.

...Still, part of you feels a swell of affection at the fact he still cares about you, even after all these years.

Staying true to your word, you text Sans, telling him you’ll give him context the next time you see him.

* * *

You decide to go Christmas shopping early the next day, mostly because of the convenience and also because you probably won’t have time to worry about it later. The Holidays are pretty hectic for you, as most people are seeking you out for anything and everything.

Unfortunately, you realize too little too late the mess you’ve gotten yourself into.

Will is easy, certainly; not just because you know him well, but because his only interests consist of birds and music. Specifically classical and country, something you, admittedly, find guilty pleasure in yourself. You like mostly the same things, so there’s not much difficulty in finding said country music album for him and a glass figurine of a blue jay. You also think about getting some things for his family, but that might be a little awkward.

Your new friends are a bit harder to shop for. You don’t worry about Frisk too much, as they’re a kid and they’re not very hard to read in terms of what they want right now. (That being two stuffed animals they desperately told you they “needed” which were mercifully a little over ten bucks.) You settle on getting Asgore some new boxes of tea for the both of you to share and a bright golden gardening can. You throw in a box of tea for Toriel as well, along with a sweet-smelling candle you think she might like and a pan she could use to cook.

For Papyrus and Undyne, you buy each of them a recipe book—because you’re not entirely sure they can share a single one—and some action figures for Papyrus specifically. Undyne is somewhat difficult to guess, so you just get a T-shirt that says “Seems Fishy” with a little picture of a fish on the front. It’s dumb, you know, but you’re on a time frame here.

Alphys, well... You just end up buying a movie called “Spirited Away,” some kind of anime movie you figure she and Undyne can enjoy together. It makes you feel guilty that you can’t think of anything else for the lizard monster, but you’re just not sure what else to give her, as you don’t know her all that well, besides her liking science in some way; and you’re not very good at understanding sciencey-terms.

Sans... Oh stars. Sans is definitely an enigma.

Other than obviously liking puns, you have absolutely _no_ idea what his interests are, much less so than even Alphys. So much to your reluctance, you give up on trying to find him something, and try to remind yourself to call Papyrus later or something. It kind of sucks because you’re still feeling bad about freaking out on him for seemingly no reason, but that’s all the more reason to know what you’re doing when it comes to him. You want to be precise here, and make it seem like you care.

By the time you do call Papyrus, it’s a few hours later, and you’re not planning to go back to the store any time soon; so when he mentions his brother’s fondness of astronomy, you’re kind of left in a pickle. Granted, you can really just go back to the store tomorrow, but you feel like it would be a waste of time, somehow. You want to get all of this done _now_.

Therefore, you ask Papyrus if Sans might like a lava lamp. It’s out of left field, very much so, and not exactly “space-related” in any way, but it’s all you can think of.

_“LAVA?? AS IN, THE VERY BRIGHT AND VERY WARM LIQUID IN HOTLAND?” _he asks, very confused.

“Uh, kind of. It’s just a term, there’s not actual lava involved.” You chuckle slightly. “You can look some pictures up, if you like. Of the lamp, I mean, not... Lava itself.” Well, obviously he wouldn’t do that. Are you dumb?

_“THANK YOU FOR CLARIFYING!! I WAS ABOUT TO QUESTION YOUR __REASONING IN LOOKING UP PICTURES OF LAVA WHICH I ALREADY KNOW EXISTS.” _Oh. _”I SHALL GO LOOK UP THIS ‘LAVA LAMP’ YOU SPEAK OF!”_

“Alright, just tell me when you’re—”

_“DONE!”_

What the heck. Is he a literal superhero or something? “Oh,” is all you mumble at first. “Um... What do you think?”

_“HMM,” _the skeleton muses over the phone, sounding deep in thought. _“YOU HUMANS CERTAINLY LIKE PRETTY THINGS.”_

You laugh again, maybe a bit nervously. “So... Do you think Sans might like one?”

_“OH, SURE!! HE’S INTO GLOWY STUFF LIKE THAT!”_

“Is there a certain color he prefers?” You’re not sure why you ask that; it’s pretty much pointless.

_“HMM, WELL... HE LIKES BLUE, USUALLY!”_

You barely hold back from letting out a sigh of relief. Good, so that’s one less thing to worry about. “Cool. Thanks, Pap,” you respond, the nickname slipping through your teeth suddenly, and your cheeks immediately flush with embarrassment. You try to stammer out an apology, but he’s already talking again.

_“YOU ARE WELCOME, FRIEND LARA! I AM GLAD TO HAVE BEEN OF ASSISTANCE!!”_

He ends the call swiftly, leaving you with a rather warm feeling in your chest. Ah geez.

Why do you have to have such great friends?

After making the quick stop at your office, you hurry home to wrap all the presents you’ve prepared for everyone. You stuff most of them into empty boxes you had lying around from last Christmas but end up having to keep the movie for Alphys and William’s presents as they are, simply wrapped with no box to hide in.

With the lava lamp, you’re extra careful; mostly because you don’t want to break it somehow, and a bit because you still hold some sort of attachment. You lay it in the box as delicately as you can, close the flaps, and cover it in the red and green paper you also bought this morning.

You end up going to bed pretty early, at about nine PM, and wake up just as early at four in the morning, simply after having a nightmare. It’s one of your usual ones, nothing too special to write home about, nothing is different; but, like always, it unnerves you all the same, so you get up to grab some hot chocolate to settle your mind.

As you wait for the water to heat up in the microwave, your phone chimes the familiar bell of receiving a text. You blanch, blinking quite a few times before opening your messages to see who it is.

Seriously? Of all the people who could be trying to get a hold of you at this hour...

** _Sans: _ ** _u up?_

** _You: _ ** _why are YOU up?_

You cringe, realizing how rude that probably seems. Not a minute later, your phone chimes again.

** _Sans: _ ** _bad dream_

That piques your interest. What would a guy like Sans have nightmares about?

_That’s a weird coincidence_, you reply with. _Me too._

** _Sans: _ ** _srsly_ _? huh_

** _Sans: _ ** _they about something in particular_

** _You: _ ** _I could ask you the same thing._

** _Sans: _ ** _heh alright._

Yeah, you got the feeling he wouldn’t be too keen on being open either. Oh well. Guess neither of you are getting anywhere.

You get another message from him rather quickly, startling you a bit just as the microwave beeps news of its finished product.

** _Sans: _ ** _are you sure you’re okay? _ _im_ _ almost certain you’re avoiding me again_

** _You: _ ** _Yes, I’m perfectly fine, numskull. Just needed some time to think things over. I’m not avoiding you._

** _Sans: _ ** _not now anyway. will kind of implied you were avoiding everyone._

You pause your conversation to tear open a package of the hot chocolate mix and stir it in with the steaming water. Upon bringing it up to your mouth for a sip, you nearly drop it onto the floor in your haste to bring it away. What’s with you and taste-testing hot drinks before they’re ready?

Sighing tiredly, you wipe a hand across your forehead and type out your next response:

_I don’t avoid people, I just take breaks from them. That sounds like avoiding but it really isn’t, trust me. You’d know if I was avoiding you._

** _Sans: _ ** _aw, so you do _ _care_

** _You: _ ** _what are you talking about?_

** _Sans: _ ** _here _ _i_ _ thought you’re some weirdo who doesn’t like socializing_

** _You: _ ** _Dude, I literally run this city, if I didn’t like socializing we’d have a serious problem._

** _You: _ ** _Especially w_ _hen it comes to you guys. Monsters are more energetic than probably all of the humans I’ve known in my lifetime combined._

** _Sans: _ ** _lol I know. the first part _ _i_ _ mean_

There’s a moment before he continues. Then...

_that’s not a problem is it_

You feel some sort of dread sink its claws into you as you process what he means.

**_You: _**_oh my_ _stars, no! If I thought that way then just damn me now, geez._

** _You: _ ** _M__onsters are like the only good thing to happen to _ _Ebott_ _ in years. I love having you here, all of you._

Another pause, and you’re feeling like maybe that was a bit too much. But a chime happens before you can do anything about it.

** _Sans: _ ** _thanks._

** _Sans: _ ** _you too._

You’re not... Really sure what he means by that. So, you just shrug, setting your phone down and drinking your cocoa until the first light of dawn peeks through the sky.


	16. Decking Halls and Dancing Around Issues (The Second Part)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where you kind of just wing it (continued).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YA'LL READY FOLKS, IT'S TIME FOR THE FESTIVITIES AND ANGST and maybe a little fluff
> 
> I couldn't wait until midnight (which was my original plan to post it, or sometime around then) so here, hope you enjoy, and Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!! Have an awesome day/night! :)

Ah, Christmas Eve: a day you both dread and anticipate each year, because it fills you with anxiety either way. And it’s already here, the day after your last text conversation with Sans. You’d like to say you’re excited right now, but you’re really anything _but_. Mainly because you’re procrastinating and trying put off the fact that you need to tell said skeleton monster about the whole drama with you and William.

At first, you make the excuse that _he_ hasn’t told you anything about his past, so you don’t have to tell him yours. Which is downright childish of you; even if you two are friends, there’s a limit somewhere to how much information you can trust each other with. (Right now, anyways.) And you don’t have to tell him everything. Just how you managed to meet Will. Just that simple detail. It’ll be fine, and surely, you won’t be judged.

...Okay but he’s judged you before, on your opinions about monsters as a whole. Which isn’t even a problem you have. What could you—or others, perhaps?—have done to make him think that your word isn’t the final one? Why would you lie to him?

Hmm. Maybe... Maybe it’s not your fault at all. Maybe it’s just a monster thing. You know they have good reason not to trust humans entirely, after all. Maybe Frisk has lied to them about some things, too? Probably insignificant, miniscule things, as they’re a child, but still. They’re also a child with the power to come back from the grave, basically. And you’re _certain_ they are continuing to be secretive about it now.

Maybe that’s the reason Sans is a little skeptical about you.

Well then, if that’s the case, you just have to give him a reason to trust you, right? Even if you’re not really trusting _him_ enough to tell him _everything_. Even if you will be really only doing it out of courtesy; even if it’s just to clear things up and make him less confused about this situation. Even if there’s a _very_ likely chance he doesn’t care about your friendship at this point.

Really, it was probably just a pipe dream anyway, to have such great friends.

But it’s not time to think about that. It’s Christmas; literally, as you’ve spent the entirety of your Christmas Eve stressing over that future charade, watching TV and stuffing your face full of Cheetos. Your lazy bum didn’t even call in to see if your coworkers could fill in for you a bit, but in your defense that’s probably because you’re already dreading the moment you have to talk someone. You don’t want to do it ahead of time, of course. Plus, it’ll better to deal with it on your own, and not stress them out. They barely know what they’re doing as is, working with you and all.

It’s honestly just like you to do this to yourself, on one of your busiest days of the year.

...Okay, again, it’s not time to think about that. The show you’re watching is almost over and it’s like, three AM. Close enough to your time to get up, you suppose, even though you didn’t sleep in the slightest, and you know the lack of rest will catch up to you later.

Huffing slightly, you turn the TV off and stumble to your feet, proceeding to start coffee. In the meantime you get some ingredients out for batter and play some tunes on your phone, meanwhile texting Will a good morning message, as he’s pretty much your only other friend you know to be up at this hour.

This is quickly disproven, however, as you’re getting a call. You pause the music and answer.

_“HEY PUNK!!!” _You grimace, quickly pulling the receiver far from your ear, a good foot or two away. _“I need __ya__ to do me a favor!”_

“Um,” you utter. “Okay?”

You barely got that out, as she’s already continuing: _“Tori’s having a party at eight-thirty SHARP!! You NEED to be there, no running late, dork!”_

What? Why weren’t you informed of this beforehand? Why so soon? “Undyne, I’m not sure—”

_“I’M SERIOUS!! BE THERE!!” _You hear a click, and you realize she’s already hung up.

...Okay, that was a little odd, to say the least. You don’t have time to decide what to do as Asgore makes his appearance, closing the spare bedroom’s door behind him.

“Is everything alright, Miss Lara?” he inquires. Undyne’s shouting must have woke him.

“Yeah,” you respond, rubbing your forehead. “Just got an invitation of sorts.” You blink slowly at him then smile. “Sorry. Would you like tea or coffee?”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you with either,” he says softly, joining you in the kitchen. “If you are going somewhere, you should worry about that, not me.”

“It’s no trouble; besides, the party starts at eight. Want to come?” you offer. “I could probably—”

“No.” After giving you a grateful look when you pull out a chair for him, he continues, “I appreciate the offer, but I was not invited.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, I’m sure you—”

“Thank you, but I mean it. I do not think it is best for me to join you. I hope you understand.”

His words are said in a kind tone, though you can tell this is his final statement. So you back off, and go on to start the coffee pot for you, asking him again what drink he would prefer. Knowing you won’t let up on this matter, he begrudgingly answers with coffee, for once, simply to try it.

Once he does, you realize pretty quickly that he’s not too fond of its bitter taste, even if he’s obviously trying not to show it and be rude. You merely giggle and tell him it’s alright, earning a guilty look from him as you say he doesn’t have to finish, and give him a fresh cup of tea to make up for it. He shares in your amused laughter after a moment, so you know there’s no hard feelings between you two.

After eating a quick meal—and apologizing to Asgore for not actually cooking both of you something—you make sure to inform him to call you if he needs anything, then you head out with your gifts thirty minutes ahead of time, only to realize five houses down the sidewalk that you don’t know where this party is taking place. You really hope it’s at Papyrus and Sans’s place; otherwise, you’ll have to walk a few streets down in the freezing cold to reach said party (and you didn’t bring a jacket with you).

You thank the stars above when someone answers the door, and are even more relived when you see it’s Papyrus. He wastes no time in pulling you into one of his signature hugs. When he pulls away, he’s beaming. “I AM VERY HAPPY TO SEE YOU, FRIEND LARA!! THOUGH, I WASN’T REALLY EXPECTING YOU AT THIS TIME!”

“How come?” you ask.

“I WAS JUST ABOUT TO HEAD OVER TO LADY TORIEL’S HOUSE!”

...Oh. “Oh,” you repeat out loud, a bit dumbly. “I thought it was here.”

“WELL, IT’S LESS HASLE FOR EVERYONE IF IT’S OVER THERE INSTEAD, AS SHE MAKES MOST OF THE FOOD!”

“Right. Well, I’d rather not, um, walk in this weather, so I guess I’ll just go back home and get my car real quick—”

“NONSENSE!” he cuts in brightly. “WE CAN TAKE MINE!”

You look up at him, eyes widening a bit. “You have a car? How come I’ve never seen it?”

“OH, WELL...” His grin falters, just barely, but you notice. “I WASN’T ABLE TO SAVE UP FOR ONE UNTIL THIS WEEK. BUT IT’S ALL GOOD NOW!!” he adds giddily, giving a little jump of excitement. “I CAN FINALLY FEEL THE WIND IN MY HAIR AND EVERYTHING!!!”

Disregarding that last curious statement, you furrow your brows, trying to figure out what was wrong with his previous words: _I WASN’T ABLE TO SAVE UP FOR ONE UNTIL THIS WEEK._ Why had he seemed somewhat sad when he said that? And why does it seem like there was an issue to save up for it? You made sure the businesses in your city had worked to help their prices fit monster currency just like regular money, if they hadn’t earned it yet; and judging by how much gold each monster _did_ have, Papyrus should have been able to get a car on the surface fairly easily. You swear there shouldn’t be a problem...?

Too late to ponder this to a full extent, as you’re being led to a pretty nifty red convertible at the end of their driveway. You gape at it for a good three seconds before Papyrus opens the passenger door for you. Not wanting to look like a fish any longer, you climb in, trying to avoid getting dirt on the nice leather seats as you set your duffle bag of presents in the back.

“Where’s Sans?” you inquire, noticing the absence of the other skeleton as Papyrus starts the vehicle and pulls out.

“HE’S ALREADY THERE,” Papyrus responds, then rolls his eyes. “THE LAZYBONES DECIDED TO TAKE ONE OF HIS ‘SHORTCUTS.’”

There it is, _again_. Will you ever know what they mean by that? And what kind of shortcuts would Sans need to take, anyway? How can they be any faster than a freaking _convertible_, for crying out loud?!

Agh. You should really stop questioning what monsters can do at this point.

The instant you guys are in the driveway of Toriel’s house, Papyrus puts down the cover, yanks the keys out of the engine, and literally leaps out, leaving the car to roll to a sudden stop as you’re jolted with the movement. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you follow suit, pulling your duffle bag with you.

Not a minute later, you’re assaulted by a pair of blue muscle-y arms. “YOU’RE EARLY, PUNK!!” Undyne practically screeches in your ear, squishing you briefly against her before your bag is suddenly yanked out of your hands. “And sweet, you brought presents!” She proceeds to shake it, of all things.

“Undyne, kindly hand my bag back,” you say, with a smile that’s a bit too sweet. She barks out a laugh then shoves it back towards you. You take it back all-too willingly, your grip on it just a little tighter now.

As she beats you to the door, you’re left to invite yourself in, peeking inside. The house is just as you left it a few weeks ago; maybe a bit messier than usual, but, well, who are you to judge? There’s a rather large pine tree in the corner of the living room, which is about five yards to the right from the entry room you’re currently standing in. Papyrus is in said living room berating a couch-ridden Sans for... Something. He looks drowsy, so he probably just woke him up.

After Papyrus leaves, Sans’s attention switches to you, and he seems surprised. “oh. hey.”

“Hey,” you reply, because what else can you do?

There’s something odd in his expression, something that you can’t quite place, so you decide to break the awkward silence that follows your greeting. “Um... So... How’s your day been?”

Yup, that’s totally not making things more awkward. You internally cringe as Sans continues to blankly stare at you.

“what?” he huffs incredulously.

“Sorry, that was... Sorry.” Should you just stop? “I should... Probably... Tell you things.” Lara, that’s not stopping.

Somehow, an even weirder look crosses the skeleton’s skull, and after a moment he shakes his head. You think for sure he’s about to make fun of you, or something of that nature, but then a chuckle escapes him, his grin widening slightly. “you’re ridiculous.”

Aaand, he’s still making fun of you. Cool. Rolling your eyes, you shuffle forward to place your duffle bag under the tree. “Here I am offering to tell you my life story and you’re being a jerk. Gee, thanks.”

He laughs again. It sounds a bit more genuine this time. “‘m just glad ya don’t hate me.”

You cock your head slightly. “Why would I hate you?”

“kinda... got on your case, and all.”

“Sans, it doesn’t bother me anymore,” you tell him, because it doesn’t, honestly. Yes, the topic itself does, but you’re not mad at him anymore; you don’t think you ever really were.

“heh. i... just seems like i’ve been messing up a lot lately. ‘specially when it comes to you.”

“Well, I’m probably not the easiest person to be friends with,” you admit. “I... I think I take things to heart, too often. I don’t blame you.” You flap your hands around, as though that will somehow help you explain. “I wouldn’t be very surprised if that’s—”

You never get to finish that sentence, as someone shouts that breakfast is ready. Giving Sans an apologetic glance, you head off towards the kitchen.

Despite aforementioned breakfast, you don’t really eat much, mainly because you ate earlier; to make up for this, you promise Toriel to take some of her pie home for later, and she insists you take some for William too.

“I don’t know,” you say. “It’s probably a bad idea. He’ll get addicted and eat you out of house and home.” It’s bad enough he’s already been exposed.

“I could always make more,” she points out. You shake your head with a smile.

“Thanks, but cookies will be enough for him. And even then, that’s being risky,” you add jokingly. “I’ll just take two.”

After helping you put the pie slices in a container she’s letting you borrow, you temporarily put it in the fridge—because you didn’t think of conveniently putting it in the container right before you left, even though you planned on staying a bit longer—and head back to the living room, finding Sans lounging on the couch yet again. If he hadn’t joined everyone at the table, it would appear he hadn’t moved in the slightest since you last spoke to him.

You give him a sheepish smile, going over how to start the conversation in your head. He’s probably thinking right now about how bad you are at basic communication, especially considering what your role is.

“uh... you wanna sit down?” he asks, noticing your fidgety stance.

Right. Sitting. That’s a thing you can do, isn’t it?

Almost stiffly, you lower yourself down onto the couch next to him, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. You don’t even realize you must be doing it for a long time before he speaks up again:

“listen, if it’s bothering you that much, then...” He shrugs, seeming nonchalant. “then you don’t have to say anything to me. i mean, i shouldn’t be really expecting you to...”

You’re already shaking your head. “No, no, I need to be honest. Really, I’m being stupid. It’s not that big of a deal.” _The part I’ll tell you, anyway. _

“...okay?”

You feel his eyes boring into you, waiting patiently for you to continue. After letting out a small breath, you prepare yourself, and begin.

“I knew someone before I knew Will,” you say, “and that someone is the one that introduced me to him.”

You pause, slightly, as though waiting for any questions he might have. Of course, he asks you, “is that it?”

“Technically speaking,” you admit. “That’s the part that you mostly wanted to know, anyway. But obviously there’s more to it than that.”

“like what?”

“The, um, guy I knew,” you go on slowly, “was William’s older brother. I’m not sure exactly how long we were friends, but... Longer than Will and me, certainly. Their family had somewhat of a political stance along with mine, but that was simply because of my influence.”

Silence follows, as you decide to leave it there, not knowing what else to say. With the information you had chosen to give him, that’s pretty much it.

Sans is staring right at you now, as though studying your movements. (You don’t mention it, but it unnerves you.) “what was his name?” he asks casually.

You blink, a bit surprised. Why is _that_ important to him?

Eh, he’s probably just curious, you shouldn’t look too deep into it. “Lucas,” you respond, the name leaving a weird taste on your tongue after uttering it. Something flashes across the skeleton’s face, but it’s gone before you can interpret it.

“so, where is—” he starts, in that same casual tone that’s a bit _too_ casual, when a mixture of blue and purple suddenly dives onto the couch between you two. You recognize the figure immediately, your previous sour expression melting away.

“Hey Frisk!” you greet cheerily, throwing your arms around them as they proceed to secure your neck in a hug. They pull away just as quickly as they appeared, grinning, and you ruffle their hair, making them stick their tongue out at you playfully. “You ready to open presents yet?”

They wrestle out of your grip, practically cackling, “I was _born_ ready!”

“you sure about that, kiddo?” Sans pipes up from behind them. “’m pretty sure you’re born without knowin’ all the basic life functions.”

Scowling, the child redirects their target to the offending monster and tackles him, merely earning a small “oof” from him in return. You shake your head amusedly and rise to your feet.

“aw c’mon,” Sans wheezes after you as Frisk pins him to the couch with their embrace. “help a guy out, wouldya? this is assault.”

“It’s out of my control, sorry. Besides,” you add, “I have gifts to place under the tree, so—”

At that, Frisk jumps off of Sans like a rocket and runs over to you, jumping up and down in their spot as you pull out the items from you duffle bag (after contemplating if any of this is truly a good idea, of course). “Oooh, how many do I get?!”

“Hold your horses, there’s other people than you!” you laugh, hesitating before pulling out theirs. “Is Toriel alright if you open presents right now?”

“Yeah, I asked.” Of course they had, this kid is prepared for anything.

“DID SOMEBODY SAY PRESENTS?!!”

Right on cue, Papyrus and Undyne gallivant into the room, pushing past a lenient Toriel (Papyrus halts to apologize immediately for bumping into her, of course). Alphys isn’t too far behind, munching on a Christmas cookie.

When you meet the former queen’s gaze, she looks almost regretful. “I hope you do not mind, but we already celebrated Gyftmas beforehand. I was meaning for you to get something but I am afraid I forgot. I am very sorry.”

You shake your head again with another smile. “It’s no problem. I wasn’t expecting you to go through that sort of trouble.”

“Oh, but it is a problem,” Toriel protests. “You’ve brought everyone gifts. The least we could do is give you some ourselves.”

“It’s really not a big deal, I promise. Now take this,” you add, handing her her present.

One by one, you hand out your wrapped items for them, giggling slightly when Frisk tries to tear off the wrapping paper of theirs before everyone else only to get scolded by Toriel.

“You guys can open them whenever. Sorry for being late to the party—uh, figuratively. What is Gyftmas anyway?”

Alphys responds, “I-it’s a monster holiday, so it’s okay that you didn’t know. W-we used to have it every few months in the Underground.”

“Yeah,” Undyne cuts in, already tearing into her present, “a lot of people came to Snowdin, but most stayed in their homes to celebrate. Is it like human holidays at all?”

“Well, what exactly do you guys celebrate?” you ask.

“It’s not a specific thing: it’s more so just so we can spend time with family and give each other stuff to show we care. Why, is Christmas different?”

You shrug. “Kind of. We have that too, but it’s more... Materialistic, I suppose. Most focus on the gift part, not the family or friend part. And humans also celebrate it for different reasons, one being religious, another just to, well... Spend time together, and take a break from life.” You shrug again, not really knowing how to explain it in a way that would make sense. “But yeah, it’s not as genuine as Gyftmas, from the sounds of it.” Undyne frowns slightly.

“Are you guys always like that?”

Huh? Why is she looking at you like that? “Um. Like that?”

“Always putting themselves before others,” she responds gruffly, eyeing you like you made a mistake or something. What the hell? What did you do wrong? Did you—

“Undyne, that’s enough,” Toriel’s commanding tone interrupts whatever tension had suddenly grown in the room. Unfortunately, the fish monster seems to ignore her as she finally opens the box; just like that, the hostility in her features is gone, replaced with confusion.

“Oh, uh... That’s a cook book,” you explain weakly, feeling a bit self-conscious now that she showed you cold shoulder out of nowhere. She proceeds to pull out the shirt, as well, seemingly inspecting it. You shrink a bit, awaiting something like a insult about how your gifts are the worst gifts she’s ever received.

Then she starts cackling, and you’re not sure how to react.

“_Seriously_? ‘Seems Fishy??!’” She slaps her leg, laughing harder, like it’s the best thing she’s seen in years. “Holy crap!! DUDE!”

“Um,” you stammer.

You’re suddenly pulled forward roughly, your neck in what could have been a chokehold if she didn’t go on to noogie you. “YOU’RE SUCH A NERD!!!”

“Wait, wait, what?” You pull away, furrowing your eye brows. “Are you not mad at me, or...?”

“Mad at you? HA!” She ruffles your hair, making you scowl somewhat. “I was just messing with you, punk! I’ll admit, it’s hard to trust humans like you, but you’ve proven to me you’re cool! Thanks for the gifts!”

...Wow. Way to give you a heart attack.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” Toriel says eventually, sounding just about as confused as you feel, “who would like to go next?”

You’re faintly surprised to see that everyone likes your gifts, even though you honestly should probably have been more confident. (You get the feeling that when it comes to these guys, they’d appreciate something from you even if it isn’t really what they might like.) You do apologize a couple times to Alphys for only getting her one thing, as you pretty much got everyone else more, but she doesn’t seem to particularly mind; the fact that it’s an anime and one she hasn’t seen yet is good enough for her.

After Papyrus is finished hugging you to death for what you gave him, you look around and see that a certain other skeleton is missing from the group. His brother mutters something about tardiness while you take the opportunity to pick up the present and head towards the kitchen, making a split-second guess that he might be in there. Fate happens to reward you, as he’s leaning on one of the counters sipping from a mug. (Come to think of it, when had he slipped away from the other room? You don’t remember him being gone a few minutes ago.)

“Hey, you forgot your present,” you tell him, lifting the box up you hold in your hands. His lazy grin seems to falter for a moment, almost like he isn’t expecting this.

“uh... didn’t know i had one,” he replies simply, appearing a bit perplexed. Woah, he really wasn’t expecting a present from you. “you hardly know me, what got in ya to buy me something?”

You laugh. “I didn’t buy it. I, um... I hope you don’t mind. It was last minute, but...” You set it on the counter next to him, and rub the back of your neck. “I’d feel bad if I didn’t give you something. Even if I didn’t put that much effort into it, I guess...”

Geez, now that you’re saying it aloud, you sound like a real stinge. Why hadn’t you had the decency to actually buy him something? So what if you were running low on time, you _should’ve..._

Sans squints at you. “if you didn’t buy it, then where’d you get it?”

“My office,” you answer sheepishly, avoiding his gaze to meet the floor instead. “I’ve had it for a couple years, but I called Papyrus and figured you might like it, or...” Okay, just stop.

“...I’m sorry, this was a stupid idea,” you sigh finally. “I don’t blame you if you don’t like it, it’s dumb.”

He just shoots you another inquisitive look before taking it from the counter and contemplatively ripping open the paper. When he takes the object out of the box, he’s still staring at you, his expression unreadable.

“what is it?” he asks after a moment, turning it over in his boney palms.

“A lava lamp. You... Like the name suggests, it’s a lamp.” You tug at your sleeves, anxious now. “You plug it in and turn it on, but there’s... Ugh, here, I’ll show you.”

You grab it from him before your own conscience can argue and plug it into a nearby outlet, then flip it on. For added effect, you trod over to the light switch and dim the bulbs overhead, leaving the kitchen in almost-darkness, except for the lamp that now glows on the counter.

The room is shrouded in a gentle cyan blue, and you meet Sans’s gaze hesitantly. His eye lights are rather large now, looking back at you every few seconds only to go back to the lamp. Neither of you say anything for what seems like a full minute, until...

“you said it’s yours, right?” says Sans. His voice is... Soft. Softer than you’ve ever heard it, you think.

“Well, yes, it is,” you confirm, blinking. “But... I mean...” Your face twists into a slight grimace. “If you want it, I could still give it to you, but... I don’t see why you’d want it. Like I said, it’s dumb, giving you something used. I understand if...”

You stop, because you should. You’ve been running your tongue long enough today, probably.

“if you really want it, ‘m not gonna take it from you.”

...Huh? Why is he focused on _that_? You try to speak, but he’s already beat you to it.

“’s not a bad gift.” This time, he avoids _your_ gaze. “it’s fine. i just don’t wanna take it from you.”

You can just tell your mouth is likely agape right now; quickly, you shut it, blinking again rapidly. “I-I mean... If you want it, I can just get another one, if I really think it’s important I... Have one.” Ugh. Can this get any more awkward? “Seriously though, it’s alright.”

“...you’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” You give a small nod, as though to solidify your statement. However, instead of answering in a way you think he would—what way you’re expecting, exactly, you’re not entirely sure—he shakes his head and chuckles.

“heh. like i said: you’re ridiculous.”

Huffing, you stalk past him and shut off the lamp.

* * *

Alright, this is it. You are _finally_ managing to remember the dilemma with Frisk. After pondering on it for a good five minutes, you've decided to bring it up. All you need to do is get them alone with you—alright that sounds super weird, not going to lie—and ask them if they told everyone or not.

Aaand, perfect! Toriel and the rest are heading for the living room, presumably to watch something. They’ll invite you to join them and Frisk will follow, you have to make your move _now_.

“Hey, can I have a word with Frisk for a moment?” you ask, deciding to just go for it. Toriel gives you a inquiring glance, but isn’t opposed to this, so you quickly pull said child aside, leading them into what’s apparently your favorite spot in this house—the kitchen.

“I’ll just be upfront with you,” you begin. “I can tell you’ve been avoiding this for a while, so I’m not surprised if you didn’t do what I asked.”

Frisk’s bewildered frown deepens, and they look up at you uneasily. They know what’s coming, obviously.

“I think I’ve been fair. I think we both can agree on that, but...” You pause. “The truth is, I can’t let this slide; I _need_ to make sure you understand me, okay?”

“Okay,” the younger human responds, a bit meekly. You might feel bad if you weren’t feeling so on edge.

“So I’m presuming you haven’t told them about your Determination yet.”

They bite their lip, looking pale. “No,” they admit at last. “I know I should’ve, but...” Then, just like that, their demeanor changes, and they give you a sure-of-themselves look. “I’ll tell them soon, I promise.”

“How soon?”

“Um,” they utter, “in a few days.”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

Their demeanor switches yet again, and they’re narrowing their eyes at you. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t guarantee you’ll do it when I’m not around,” you tell them bluntly. “I want you to do it today, while I’m still here, and—”

“No!”

“...No?”

For a second, you think you see something like anger, or spite in their eyes; but then it’s gone, and they look regretful again. “I’m sorry, I just... Can’t.”

“Frisk—”

Without giving you so much as a chance, they dart past you, probably to join their friends elsewhere. To say you’re frustrated is an understatement, but you suppose you can’t do anything about it, at this point. Clearly, they won’t listen to you, so...

Hold on. Hey.

Since when do you give up so easily?

A laugh sounds from behind you, fake in nature.

“like i said,” Sans says, “it’s nothing personal.” You turn around. “they just don’t like being told what to do.”

His eyes look void for a second, but you shrug it off as a trick of the light.

Much to your friends’ disappointment, you skip out on watching the movie with them (which happens to be the one you got Alphys), making the excuse you have more work, like you always do. As you’re bidding everyone a temporary farewell, you notice Frisk has disappeared entirely. You ignore it, for the most part, but when they do show up, they’re carrying that flower pot you’ve seen before. This time, there’s a flower inside. They don’t go over to hug you goodbye, like they normally will. They just silently watch you go out the door, a troubled look in their expression.

They’re not going to tell anyone their secrets any time soon. You’re certain of that. (Funny, isn’t it? You can control a city, but you can’t control a single _child_.) Fortunately, though, the day isn’t a total loss; you got to spend time with your friends, and they liked your gifts.

When you return home, courtesy of Papyrus again, you receive some texts you aren’t quite expecting:

** _Sans:_ ** _ thanks for the lamp, appreciate it_

**_Sans:_**_ you’ve really lighted up my life _👌

Surprising even yourself, you burst into a fit of giggles.

Yeah. Despite everything, today was a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans would definitely have a thing for lava lamps and nothing can convince me otherwise


	17. It's Raining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You help out a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've got a special treat for you kiddos
> 
> first off as you can see, i managed to get another chapter of this done, and there's actual progress i swear :') second, I HAVE A NEW STORY TO POST SO LOOK OUT FOR THAT. To top it off, it's ALL angsty, including this chapter SO
> 
> enjoy the angst! ;)
> 
> (And small heads-up, just because: This one deals with the topic of depression, so if this bothers you, be careful reading, or feel free to skip those parts if you really need to. Above all else, your own mental health matters!)

You’ve never minded rain that much. Didn’t really have a reason to, until you started driving; but even that is a minor issue to you. You actually liked when it rained, when you were younger. You kind of still do for nostalgic purposes.

Today, you... Can go without it, to say the least.

It’s raining like crazy right now, as you observe from the window in your office. It was sleet earlier, so you guess it is an improvement from that. But you’re assuming it’s still rather cold out, as it’s still late December. This is the type of rain you don’t like, where it’s freezing and wet and just, overall dreary to look at. It’s always gray outside when it rains, but this is a different kind of gray.

You’re not in a good mood. Honestly, you haven’t been since this morning. Maybe it’s because of the rain. Maybe it’s because you woke up chilled, having opened the windows the night before because the temperature was nice for once. Maybe it’s because you’re still losing sleep.

...Maybe it’s because you’re receiving new letters complaining about you—complaining about monsters. Maybe it’s because William told you there were some protesters this morning, which you didn’t know about until a few hours into your shift.

Maybe it’s because _he_ tried to contact you.

But regardless of whether it’s any of that or not, you pick up a call from Papyrus.

“Hello?” you greet him, a bit tiredly.

_“HELLO FRIEND LARA!! SORRY TO BOTHER YOU, BUT I WAS WONDERING IF YOU COULD DO FOR ME A FAVOR, MAYBE? IF YOU CAN!”_

Oh geez. What is it this time? “It depends on what it is, Papyrus,” you tell him patiently, because despite your mood you can never treat him like you might with anybody else; he’s too sweet for that.

_“WELL, YOU SEE, LADY TORIEL’S HELPING ME TAKE THIS CLASS IN CULINARY COOKING—”_

“Oh, really?” you interrupt. “That’s great! I’m happy for you!”

You can practically hear the smile in his voice. _“THANK YOU!! YOU HELPED A LITTLE WITH THAT, AFTER GIVING ME THAT COOK BOOK!”_

“That’s good to hear! Anyway, what do you have in mind for me to do?”

_“OH, RIGHT. THAT.”_ Just like that, the happiness leaves his voice. You hadn’t even realized it wasn’t there in the first place; now that you do know, you can tell he’s concerned about something. Really concerned, apparently. It’s not like him. _“YOU SEE, I... UM...”_

He hesitates. _“I’M SUPPOSED TO MEET UP WITH HER, RIGHT NOW, ACTUALLY. BUT I’M LATE, AND I DON’T WANT TO BE LATER THAN THAT, SO... CAN YOU COME OVER?? I KNOW YOU’RE PROBABLY VERY BUSY RIGHT NOW, BUT...”_

“Pap, hold on.” You blink, trying to understand the situation to the best of your ability without knowing context. “What’s making you late? What do you need me there for?”

_“UM. WELL... IT’S SANS.”_ He pauses again. _“HE’S NOT... TERRIBLE, BUT HE’S ALSO NOT VERY GOOD, EITHER.”_

“What do you mean?”

_“HE GETS VERY... SAD, SOMETIMES. I WAS ABLE TO GET HIM OUT OF BED, BUT HE WON’T EAT. I WAS HOPING TO GET HIM OUT OF THIS BEFORE I LEFT; I’VE HAD NO LUCK, THOUGH. AND I’D HATE TO LEAVE HIM ALONE IN THIS STATE, HE TENDS TO GET VERY LONELY!”_

...Huh. You didn’t know Sans had that. Poor guy. “Okay, but, what can I do? There’s got to be someone who can stay with him, right?”

_“YOU SEE, UH... I WOULD CALL SOMEBODY ELSE, BUT EVERYONE HAS SOMETHING GOING ON TODAY, FOR THE MOST PART. I’D RATHER NOT TELL LADY TORIEL ABOUT IT AND CANCEL; UNDYNE’S GOT HER POLICE WORK, ALPHYS IS WORKING ON HER STUDIES, AND FRISK... WELL...”_

“Right, they’re just a kid.” You click your tongue thoughtfully.

_“UM, YES! THAT’S IT.”_ There’s something like nervousness in his tone when he says that, for some reason. It’s gone in the next instant, however: _“ANYWAY, I THOUGHT MAYBE YOU’D BE AVAILABLE? I MEAN, I KNOW YOU AREN’T NOW, AND I REALIZED THAT RIGHT AS YOU PICKED UP, BUT IT’S TOO LATE. EHHH... I’M TRULY IN A PICKLE, FRIEND LARA!!”_

“Okay okay, um...” Dang it. You’re also in a pickle, aren’t you? You'd be fine in front of him, as it wouldn’t do Sans any good to act like you had before, if he’s really in a funk like this. But you can’t just leave work, can you? Ah, well... You _could_, technically, but that’d be putting weight on Will’s shoulders again.

Sans is your friend, though... And you still feel like you owe him something. If you refuse to help him, you might as well just start avoiding him completely again.

So, you tell Papyrus you’ll come over.

* * *

“THERE’S SNACKS IN THE CUPBOARDS, AND PANS IF YOU DECIDE TO COOK ANYTHING! HELP YOURSELF TO WHATEVER YOU LIKE, FRIEND LARA!”

“Thanks,” you respond with a smile. “I should be good myself, but I’ll ask him in a bit if he wants anything.” You spare a glance at said skeleton sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. “I’ll call you too if anything happens, alright?”

“ALRIGHT! I TRUST YOU!!” He beams at you wholeheartedly, and you get the feeling he really means it.

He squeezes you in a hug, then spins to head out the door, only to pause in the doorway, his gaze darting elsewhere. Then he darts back to Sans, and kneels in front of him.

“I’ll be back later,” he tells him, voice lowering quite a bit. “Try to get better, okay?” Sans merely nods halfheartedly, and doesn’t flinch as Papyrus throws his arms around him, nuzzling his skull against his brother’s. “I love you.”

“love you too,” the other skeleton murmurs, just barely audible. As Papyrus pulls away, Sans looks almost crestfallen, clearly not wanting him to go. Papyrus doesn’t look much better, and as he passes you, you think he’s trying to hold back tears. When he turns to you, he quickly puts on another smile.

“I KNOW YOU’LL TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIM,” he says brightly, opening the door. “SEE YOU LATER!”

“Bye,” you call after him with a wave, stopping as the door shuts. And soon as it does, you drop your hand and make your way over to the couch-ridden skeleton; he pulls the blanket tighter around him at your approach, thinking you won’t notice. You do.

“...it’s ice to see you,” is all he says. You smile, but it’s more sad than amused.

“Was hoping to _snow_ up again,” you reply, plopping yourself down next to him. He chuckles somewhat, voice gravelly with exhaustion.

“that was a bit of a stretch.”

“Yeah, and it’s not snowing.”

He chuckles again, just a bit forced. “you’re gettin’ better, i’ll give ya that.”

“Hah, thanks.”

You hesitate, and there’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything. You decide to speak, to break it, but—

“sorry.”

You swallow whatever words you were going to say. “For what?”

“makin’ you do this,” he mumbles, all traces of humor gone completely. “didn’t think it’d get this bad. sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. We all have our off days.”

“yeah, but...” He shifts slightly before continuing. “’s stupid.”

You turn to face him more head on, your eyes boring into him. “Sans,” you say seriously, “it’s not _stupid_. It could never be ‘stupid.’”

“yeah it—”

“No, it _isn’t_,” you affirm sternly. “None of this is stupid. Whatever you’re feeling right now, whatever is in your head, isn’t something you should take lightly. It matters.”

“what if nobody else is feeling it.”

His eye-lights have disappeared, and his grin stretches wider than normal, but clearly, it’s not because he’s happy.

“what if you’re the only one who thinks that way.”

“You’re not. There’s a lot of people who—”

“tell me, lara,” he interrupts, using your name; you honestly don’t recall him ever using it before. “do you believe all of this is worth it?”

You stare back at him, startled. “I-I—”

“that all of it’s not pointless? do you?”

“Of course none of it is pointless,” you blurt out, and he lets you talk, finally. “I... I know it’s not.” You frown deeply at him, your head spinning. “Is that what you believe?”

His eye-lights flicker back to existence at your question. They are weak, however. “i don’t know what i believe anymore,” he laughs, sounding broken.

You lean back against the cushions, letting those words end your conversation. You don’t really want to talk about this anymore; not because it’s bothering you, but because it seems to bother him, the more you do talk about it.

There’s another bought of silence for a couple minutes. Then, slowly, like you’re not really controlling your movements, you go to pick up the remote.

“When I’m sad,” you say suddenly, your voice cracking through the previously-quiet air, “watching something helps me take my mind off of it.” You glance at him, tentatively. “You want to try that?”

His sockets have widened a bit, at your proposition; but he nods slowly, so you fall back onto the couch and turn on the TV.

From then on, Sans is quiet for most of the time. You notice he keeps sneaking glances at you, and you wonder if he wants to say something else. You don’t push it and wait, your eyes on the television but your attention on him.

“uh...” You turn your head, maybe too quickly. “thanks.”

“For what?” you ask.

“for... doin’ this. staying here, and all.” His smile turns soft, seeming genuine, for once. You feel your heart warm a little.

“You’re welcome. And hey,” you add, before he can look away. “I don’t know if it means much right now, but I’ll always be available, if you need someone to talk to. You can call me or just text me, if you want.”

“heh, sure.” He looks back at you for a bit longer, his eye-lights glowing, before he quickly looks away again, as though he realizes he’d been staring.

You rise to your feet. “Are you hungry?” you ask. “I can probably make us something. That’s another thing that helps me feel better, when I’m feeling down. Especially soup,” you add, mostly to yourself, but he hears.

“soup sounds good. if it’s... okay with you.”

“Of course,” you say with a smile. “Anything to help you out.”

You head for the other room, missing the light blue that spreads across his cheekbones. You trifle through the cabinets for a moment, calling over your shoulder, “Well, there’s chicken noodle, mushroom, beef gravy I think—”

“tomato.”

You blink, just then spotting a can of tomato soup on one of the shelves. “Alright, tomato it is. You want a bowl or a cup?” You don’t even know if you’ll be able to fit it in a cup, but whatever. Ah well, Sans just shrugs anyway, so you choose a bowl.

After heating it up in the microwave for a few minutes, you return to Sans and set it down on the coffee table in front of him, cautioning him that it’s hot. To your slight surprise, he listens to you, joining you in watching the rest of the show that had just started.

When it’s over, and he does finally pick the soup up, he grumbles it’s still hot. You giggle, “Sorry, probably put it in there longer than I should have.”

As he takes a sip, you take this moment to realize you didn’t bring him a spoon. “Oh! Sorry! You don’t have to drink it like that, I can—” You’re already getting up again when you feel a hand grab yours, stopping you. As you move your gaze to him, he immediately retracts it.

“relax, bud, wouldya?” he tells you amusedly, the bowl of soup magically back on the table. “you don’t have to go runnin’ around like that, it’s fine. i don’t need anything else.”

You pause, somewhat doubtful despite his words. “Are you sure? I could...”

“yeah, ‘m sure.” He pauses, this time, looking thoughtful. “...how are you doin’ this, anyways?”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

“you seem to... know what to do. with me, i mean.”

“Oh.” You contemplate on how to phrase your answer. “Well, my dad, um. He... There was a time where he kind of had it rough, mentally. I just kind of... Kind of stayed with him, when he went through something that. He liked the company.”

You don’t have to look to feel Sans’s stare on you. “where’s he now?” he asks, carefully, likely understanding it might be a tough question for you to reply to.

It’s tough, but in a different way. You say, “I don’t know.”

He’s probably wondering if he heard that right. “He left a couple years ago,” you continue. “I haven’t seen him since.” You notice the sympathy in his gaze, so you clarify, “I was aware of it, don’t get me wrong; he told me he was leaving. We just didn’t know where he’d end up, in the end. Neither of us. He...” You shrug. “He had decided to let life take him wherever. And he did, once he knew I could handle everything on my own.”

It’s probably one your weirder stories to tell people, so you don’t tell it often. But Sans had asked, so you provided him with an answer, regardless.

“and... lucas?” _Crap_. You should have seen that follow-up question coming. “where is he?”

You shrug, again, trying to seem nonchalant. “Same thing. He left,” you mutter. You feel queasy. You don’t want to talk about this.

“sorry.” You perk up at that, glancing to him questioningly.

“Sans, I already told you, you don’t have to be—”

“no, ‘m sorry for asking you that. it’s bothering you.”

“It’s seriously okay, you were just curious.”

His hands grip the blanket around him a bit tighter. “that’s one way to put it,” he responds, bitterly, and you don’t quite understand where the bitterness is coming from. You don’t believe it’s directed at you, in any case. You don’t question it out loud, either way.

“What’d you do with the lava lamp?” you ask instead; a pathetic attempt at a conversation change, honestly. But, he looks relieved for the change, you think.

“what, ya missin’ it already?” he jokes, making you crack a small grin.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m worried you threw it out,” you retort, “I don’t see it anywhere here.”

“well yeah, you typically wouldn’t if it’s in my room.”

“...It’s in your room?” For some reason, you expected him to just... Leave it out, where everybody can see it.

“uh, yeah?”

Before you can stop yourself, you’re blurting out a “Why?” This earns you a blank stare of confusion.

“because i want it in there...?” he says slowly. “what, are you still convinced i don’t like it?”

“No, no, I just... Never mind.”

You leave it at that, any thought process you might have had fading for the time being. The same seems to happen to him, as he proceeds to eat the soup instead. The two of you remain in silence for a while, making small comments about the show you’re watching here and there until Papyrus returns around eight. When he sees both of you, safe and sound on the couch, he grins broadly.

“I AM VERY GLAD THAT EVERYTHING SEEMS TO BE ALRIGHT!! I WAS DEBATING ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT TO CALL, BUT I FIGURED YOU COULD HANDLE IT, FRIEND LARA!”

You smile back at him. “Yeah, we had fun, actually. It was nice.”

Hesitating before getting up, a thought suddenly occurs to you, and you turn back to Sans, surprising him slightly that you aren’t leaving just yet. “Hey, this is kind of a weird question, but if you want to, would you like to go stargazing sometime? I know some really cool spots I could show you.”

Sans blinks at you, his eye-lights decreasing slightly, clearly taken aback. “uh...”

Just like that you jump to your feet, waving your hands in what might’ve been an almost-reassuring way. “It’s alright, I’ll let you think about it, you don’t have to give me an answer now. I just feel like I owe you, and...”

“yeah.”

You deflate a bit. “Exactly, so—”

“no no, i mean,” he laughs a little, “yeah, we can do that.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, brightening again. “Um, great! See you then!”

You spin on your heel, and go over to give Papyrus one last hug. Before heading out, you pause in the doorway to wave to the both of them, then shut the door behind you, yet again missing his expression as Sans gazes after you, a new, soft affection shining in his eyes.


	18. To Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you fall asleep at work during New Year’s and are worried about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm super sorry this is so late! i really wanted to get it done closer to New Year's (as this is New Year's-themed) but it just didn't work out like that. and as school is starting up again soon, i don't know when I'll be able to post anything again
> 
> i doubt it'll be months 'til the next chapter but I dunno, haha. enjoy this short thing in the mean time!

** _WhereTheresAWillTheresAWay_ ** ** _: _ ** _yo_ _ lar, what’s your new years resolution??_

** _You: _ ** _I don’t have one_

** _WhereTheresAWillTheresAWay_ ** ** _: _ ** _WHAT??! >:OO_

** _You: _ ** _Yeah, it’s dumb, most people break them anyways_

** _WhereTheresAWillTheresAWay_ ** ** _: _ ** _but that’s like the whole point of it!!!_

** _WhereTheresAWillTheresAWay_ ** ** _: _ ** _your supposed to have a resolution just to break it, that’s why people have them_

** _You: _ ** _yeah and it’s stupid -_-_

** _WhereTheresAWillTheresAWay_ ** ** _: _ ** _YOUR NO FUN!!!!_

** _You: _ ** _*you’re_

** _WhereTheresAWillTheresAWay_ ** ** _: _ ** _EXACTLY MY POINT_

** _WhereTheresAWillTheresAWay_ ** ** _: _ ** _fine if that’s how its _ _gonna_ _ be I‘ll just talk to you’re stupid butt next year :T_

** _You: _ ** _*it’s *your_

** _WhereTheresAWillTheresAWay_ ** ** _: _ ** _SHUT UP Y.Y_

Still cackling to yourself, you exit out of the app and quickly go to YouTube, using the last of what little battery power you have left to start a playlist of yours: a playlist mostly comprised of old, _old_ songs and cheesy country music. You mostly do so to keep yourself awake, as you want to be awake when midnight arrives, just to see the exact moment the new year comes. You like seeing the fireworks, after all.

It’s true, you never really have a resolution for New Year’s, nor do you plan for the holiday at all, since you mostly look forward to Christmas out of the season. You have _some_ sort of idea, that you suppose could count as a resolution: like telling yourself to work harder, or be more helpful, simple things like that. It’s still not official, though. The only thing you really use New Year’s for is just to enjoy yourself, with what little time you can before going back to work.

Given you’ve been neglecting said work, you don’t do that this time around. At least, you had _tried_ to. Being the unprofessional woman you truly are, since you came to your office you haven’t managed to shake off all the lack of sleep that has finally caught up to you. Hence the music.

Unfortunately, fate seems to spite you as one of the slower songs starts playing. You hum along with it for a good thirty seconds before forgetting to stay awake, proceeding to doze, and, finally, slipping into your subconsciousness. And, as fate wills it, this is the time your friends decide to try to contact you, as well as the exact time your phone chooses to die. Had it not, you would have awakened to having received quite a few concerned texts and a phone call or two.

At five minutes to midnight (thankfully), a knock rings out through the silence, and you sit up with a jolt, dazed. Attempting to blink your sleep away, you smooth out your strands of hair a bit before calling out, in a somewhat creaky voice, “Come in.”

Immediately following your statement, the door swings open, and you meet the short skeleton’s gaze with surprise. Upon taking in your slightly disheveled form, his eye-lights seem to brighten just a bit in his dark sockets.

“apparently worryin’ people is your thing,” Sans says calmly, his rather stretched grin easing somewhat into something more relaxed.

“Oh... Sorry,” is all you can respond with, dumbly. The last of the tenseness in his shoulders fades, and he lets out a chuckle.

“’s whatever. just wanted to check on ya.” He then adds, more seriously, “mind tellin’ me _why_ you’re worrying us?”

You straighten, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I fell asleep,” you say with a tug at your sleeve, sheepish. “My phone probably, um... Died, too.”

He gives you another brief scan. “ok, so why do you look like a truck ran you over? can’t imagine those two things being the source alone.”

You laugh, tiredly, but more genuinely than even you were expecting yourself. “I guess I lost more sleep than I thought I did.” So you _have_ burnt yourself out after all; good thing William will be here to say _I told you so _later.

Oh wait... William. New Year’s. You didn’t miss it, did you?!

You scramble forward in your chair, startling Sans, and cup the sides of the small clock you have sitting on the desk to see it clearly: it reads 11:57. Whew, it’s not midnight just yet. You haven’t missed anything.

“uh...” You lift your gaze. “you good there, buddy?”

“Err, yes!” You bite your lip, cracking a small smile. “I want to be awake when New Year’s comes. I know, I’m weird,” you go on, your voice trailing off into a mumble.

“yeah, you are,” he agrees, and you send him a quick glare; he laughs. “i mean, not in a bad way. you don’t make sense to me, like, at all; but that’s kind of why you’re my friend, ain’t it?”

Umm. Sure? If he says so.

“you like this holiday?” Sans asks. You shrug.

“Eh, it’s okay. I just like to be aware of it when it actually is New Year’s Day,” you chuckle. Yeah, now that you do think about it, you sound ridiculous.

Sans shakes his head, matching your laughter with some more of his own. Grinning with mirth, he jabs a skeletal thumb in the direction of your stacked chairs. “mind if i take a seat?”

“Nah, be my guest.”

He picks up one of said chairs—you snort slightly, wondering if his previous words were intended to a pun—and plops it down in front of you, similarly to the last time he was here; only difference is it’s not as tense in the room, now that you’ve come to know him more. You find you like it better that way.

Sans kicks up his feet on your desk, leaning back. You roll your eyes but don’t comment, and he continues: “heard resolutions are a thing. got one?”

You wrinkle your nose, and shake your head. “No. I’ve always thought they’re a waste of time.”

“really?” he inquires, quirking a bone-brow. “with the way you run things i just assumed you’d wanna—”

“Guess I’m not as predictable as you thought I was,” you retort. His permanent smile twitches upwards a bit.

“never said you were predictable, bud. if anything, you’re the opposite.” He narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t get the feeling it’s in a scrutinizing, suspicious way. “tibia honest, ‘ve never met a human like you before.”

“I’m one of the only humans you know,” you point out. He chuckles, and moves his slippered feet back down to the floor.

“yeah, but i get the feelin’ it’d stick true even in the future,” he hums thoughtfully. “...also. you didn’t pick that up.”

“Pick what up?” you ask confusedly.

“nothing.” He gives you a cheeky look, so you just stare back at him, unresponsive, just as an explosion sounds off behind you. Quickly, you swivel around to peer outside, a weird childish glee filling you briefly before dying down to something calmer, yet still enthusiastic.

“I forgot about the festival,” you murmur in awe, watching the fireworks shoot up into the sky like vibrant fire.

“the what now?”

“That’s where they set off the fireworks every year,” you explain. “We used to go there when I was young. I stopped going,” you add, “I got too busy.”

Sans was focused on something else in your sentence, however. “what _we_ are you talking about?” he asks, mostly curious, but bordering on apprehensive, which you only distantly pick up on.

“My dad,” you answer, “and my mom, the one time. But I barely remember that year.” You laugh, just a bit tentatively; but your eyes quickly brighten again, as another memory comes to you. “I remember when we took William for the first time! He was so shy back then.”

“he used to be shy?” Sans blinks, and you laugh.

“Yeah, believe it or not. It took me and Lucas _forever_ to get him to come with us in the first place. Will was still pretty mad at him even after New Year’s.” A tinge of sadness pokes at your heart, thinking about it; but you continue watching the spectacle out the window, shoving those bittersweet memories to the back of your mind.

Smiling softly, you turn back to Sans, finding that he had seemingly joined your observations of the fireworks, before catching your gaze with his own eye-lights. “Oh, Happy New Year!” you stammer, the thought just then occurring you. The skeleton monster cocks his head just barely, as though trying to figure you out.

“is _this_ what you humans look forward to at the end of the year?” he says with a questioning smile. “i mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s cool and all but seems a bit... repetitive.”

“Oh, it’s very repetitive,” you say, smirking, “all of it. But, that’s really the beauty in it, in my opinion.”

“then why don’t you, y’know... enjoy it, like they are?”

...What?

Your mind running blank, you utter a simple, “Huh?”

“you clearly enjoy stuff like that,” he says casually. “why stay here and work?”

“Because it’s my job...?” you offer slowly. Sans merely shakes his head once more, disbelieving.

“will’s right. you burn yourself out too much.”

“Will’s just—”

“that kid’s got a good head on his shoulders,” he goes on quietly, “just like you do. he just wants what’s best for you, and if you ask me, ‘m kinda thinking like that too. don’t think i haven’t noticed how you’re barley able to stay awake right now.”

“How could you know—” you begin again, frustration prickling at you.

“here, i have a new year’s resolution for you,” he interrupts again, sitting up from the chair and making to stand; he fixates you with a level stare, and stuffs his hands into his hoodie’s pockets. “from now on, try takin’ it easy, okay?”

“I can’t...”

“lara,” he addresses you, firmly. “i’m serious. even _you_ need a break every once in a while.”

“Says the guy who _always _takes it easy!” you snap. Sans just shrugs off your halfhearted hostility, looking nonchalant as ever.

“alright, wait ‘til your friends force you instead. we’d be fine with that.”

“Sans,” you tell him warningly.

“welp, great chat, buddy,” he gives you a small wave, turning on his heels, “but i should really be—”

“Wait, don’t!”

He stops, turning back to you, awaiting your next words with a raised brow.

“I just...” You begin chewing your lip. “I’ve... I have responsibilities, Sans. It’s not as simple as you think it is.”

Sans snorts in reply, making you scowl. “that’s not what you thought at the start of all this.”

“Listen—”

“no. i get where you’re coming from.” He pauses. “but ‘m just looking out for you, same as everyone else. there’s people who really care about you, and keeping yourself busy all the time isn’t going to help _anyone_ here, trust me.”

You shut your gaping mouth, struggling to form coherent words on your tongue; only as his hand touches the doorknob do you stutter out a, “F-fine!”

“’fine’ what?” asks Sans, eyeing you calmly.

“I’ll think about it! Just...” You sigh, dragging a hand across your face in exasperation. “Don’t think _you’re_ off the hook.” 

“heh,” he laughs. Then he sees the serious expression on your face. “uh... what?”

“I’ll find out your secrets soon enough, skull-boy,” you growl lowly, looking him straight in the eye, watching as his pupils shrink slightly.

Then, you lean back in your own chair, giving him a snide smile. “Close the door on your way out!” you tell him sweetly, propping your own legs up on the desk.

He stares back at you, eye-lights a bit dimmer than usual in surprise, before letting out a good-natured laugh and stepping out into the hallway.

“see you later, pres,” he says, giving you one last salute, and you chortle as the door shuts behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (in case you're curious, the last song Lara listened to was [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-6DNhGl6Zo))


	19. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You think Sans and Frisk aren’t really on the same page.
> 
> ...Oh but, that’s putting it lightly, isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, first off
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 100+ KUDOS AND 1000+ HITS, OMG IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME!! <33
> 
> *ahem* second off, i know more angst is probably anything but what you want to see but here's some more because of plot, sorry. I swear the fluff will be back in action next chapter.
> 
> oh and please give [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-d07ZUqvjz4) a listen, it's one of my favorites and honestly it fits this story pretty well haha

Truth be told, you really don’t like the idea of taking a break from work now. Granted, you know you're being a bit of a hypocrite, but ever since you've gained your new friends you almost feel like you have some responsibility towards them; of course you know they can take care of themselves, but... Even so.

Currently, you're trying to get more paperwork done than usual, while your friends aren’t here to chide you for not "taking it easy." Sure, you'll take it easy eventually, but there wasn't a specific time when! Besides, Sans never clarified how much you could take it easy, right?

** _Sans: _ ** _hey u free 2day?_

...Ugh. Never mind. Guess this is really your life now, might as well get used to it.

** _You: _ ** _Yes. Do you need something?_

You know what he’s going to ask before he sends you the text:

** _Sans: _ ** _was wondering if _ _ur_ _ up for going to the park. _ _t_ _ori’s having me take care of the kid and they want somebody else to come_

** _You: _ ** _And your first thought is to go to ME?_

** _Sans: _ ** _well yea, _ _ur_ _ so uptight al the time, you could use a little fun_

You bristle at that. You are _not_ uptight! Maybe... Maybe _he’s_ uptight. After all, someone who’s uptight _always_ blames that uptightness on others, and YOU aren’t—

...Oh.

Okay, yeah, maybe he has a point.

_Fine, _you reply with, giving in. _Jadestone, right?_

** _Sans: _ ** _yep that’s the one_

** _You: _ ** _Alright, I’ll meet you there and—_

You were in the middle of writing that text when he suddenly sends another one before you can finish yours.

** _Sans: _ ** _we’re here_

You blink.

How the _heck_...

Ah, whatever. Ultimately, you decide to simply not question it, and pack up what little you need into your purse before heading out the door.

You guys chose a good day to go the park, seemingly. Since the weather’s been kind of wonky this winter and you haven’t got much snow, it’s one of those weird days where it’s partly-cloudy but the temperature is in the sixties, therefore really nice. The sun is absent for the most part, yes, but it does show up from time to time, and you don’t see any signs of there being rain later.

Frisk skips along by your side, running up ahead every so often far enough for you to call them back. Sans is on your other side, and, oddly enough, seems keen on having it stay that way. Frisk thinks similarly, apparently, for they’re purposely avoiding the skeleton’s gaze every time he just so happens to look in their direction.

You’re likely just overthinking it; it’s not like they’re actively trying to get away from each other, after all. But it does make you wonder...

The park comes into view, so you stop that train of thought and follow a speedy Frisk inside. Sans lags a bit behind you, and you catch him glancing around a few times—particularly at the sky, you notice, as the sun has decided to peek out again.

Now that you think about it, you haven’t had many sunny days in a while, especially since late autumn, which was around the time monsters showed up. There were a few here and there, but not enough for them to really enjoy it, necessarily. The same is true for the night sky. This causes you to feel bad somewhat, which is quite silly, seeing as you have no control over the weather; at least you can control other things.

“Oh, hey guys!” You perk up at a familiar voice, and spin around to see none other than William sitting on a bench nearby, his phone pointed up as some trees (probably to take pictures of birds, is your guess). He quickly puts it away and hops to his feet, but before he can head over to you, you hear a small gasp from somewhere close to you and Frisk jumps out of nowhere, proceeding to attack him with a firm hug around his waist.

“Hey kiddo,” he greets them, looking up at you with a questioning grin. You merely shrug. “It’s nice to see you too.”

Frisk pulls away after a moment, smiling broadly. You notice Sans has tensed up beside you, but when you glance at him, his expression is normal.

“hey frisk,” he says casually, making them turn their head. “can i talk to ya for a sec?”

Something flashes in their eyes—something you can’t quite distinguish in time as they’re already trudging back over. Sans begins edging away from you, and you realize he doesn’t want anyone listening in on whatever it is he has to discuss with the child. Blinking, you and William share a glance as the two head off.

“Is something wrong?” he inquires.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. “They’ve been like this since we got here.”

Will narrows his eyes and squints at his feet, as though trying to solve some sort of conundrum. “Sans did tell me they keep a lot of secrets,” he mumbles.

“Wait,” you splutter, a bit surprised, “he told you that? When?”

William shrugs, and you get the odd feeling he really doesn’t know, even though, in any case, he should. Something feels off.

You peer around at your surroundings, searching for them, and finally spot the two in front of the fountain. They’re clearly engaged in some sort of discussion at the moment, but what’s disturbing is how distressed they both appear to be; even Sans, who’s normally so calm despite any situation thrown at him, seems very upset about whatever it is the kid is telling him.

Suddenly, Frisk raises their voice, and you hear a small blurb of what they exclaim: “...not like last time!”

“i don’t...” Sans’s quiet voice fades in and out, and you catch a few words here and there, but not much. “you think that... he doesn’t...”

Fuming, the child stomps off without warning, interrupting him in the middle of a sentence. You catch Sans’s expression on them for just a second, and feel your blood run cold. His eyes are completely dark. When the lights do come back, they’re faint.

Despite the resentment he is clearly sending Frisk’s way, you don’t really feel scared when he finally joins you. Maybe it’s because he’s your friend, as well as Frisk’s, and you’re certain he wouldn’t intentionally hurt either of you. Maybe it’s because the way he’s slouching seems to suggest he’s not truly angry.

Maybe it’s because the edges of his mouth are twitching, like his eternal grin will slip at any given moment.

“That fight escalated quickly,” Will mutters behind you, and you punch him in the shoulder, hard enough for him to let out a yelp.

“Sans?” you ask, tentatively, since you don’t know how he’ll react at this point. “What’s wrong?”

“nothing.” He is quick to respond; to assure you everything’s fine. He’s done this before. Knowing that makes you sick, somehow.

“Frisk, come here,” you say, meeting their eyes unfalteringly. From a few yards away they twiddle their fingers, but obey, their gaze on the ground, likely anticipating some sort of lecture or accusation from you. “I’ll take you guys back to the house,” you continue, and they relax slightly at that. “If Toriel isn’t able to pick Frisk up yet, I will stay.”

“wh—”

You shoot him a look that states “Don’t question me,” and he backs off.

After the three of you bid William goodbye, you head off again, noting that Frisk is still purposely keeping in front of you and Sans. You ignore it and turn to the skeleton next to you, lagging behind more than usual.

“Listen,” you begin, and his head snaps up. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on between you two, but I do want you to know that you don’t have to hide anything from me.”

He hesitates, eyes dimming even more, but he doesn’t say anything. You continue, “I understand if it’s hard to talk about, too. But I’ll be here to listen, any time, if you do need to talk to someone. Okay?”

He simply nods silently, and you let it drop there.

Really, for all you know, this could be something completely insignificant, and he’s just holding a grudge against Frisk for no reason. Maybe it’s bothering Frisk just as much, and you’re just being selfishly partial because they didn’t keep a promise to you.

...But, maybe it’s something else.

Truthfully, you think it’s something else.

You get the sense Sans wouldn’t be so upset with them for nothing, especially knowing the guy he is. But you’re not sure if he’ll tell you what. Perhaps he never will.

However, even _if_ you might not understand things just yet, or ever, you meant what you said.

You’ll be here for him, no matter what.


	20. First Star I See Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sans go stargazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> behold: fluff
> 
> and also more song references, because this author is trash

“uh... you sure you’re okay with this?” Sans asks you, for the millionth time that evening.

“Yes,” you reply for the millionth time. “Stop worrying, and come help me get this into the trunk.”

Mumbling something under his breath, the skeleton trudges up next to you and lifts a hand; almost as soon as he does so, the telescope in your hands is encased in an indigo glow and lifted up ahead of you. You jump back, yelping slightly.

His head snaps to you, sockets widening. “oh crap, sorry. you okay, bud?”

“You can levitate stuff?” is what comes out of your mouth, and he relaxes, expression softening again.

“well, you did ask me to help,” he says with a cheeky grin, and you snort.

“That didn’t include magic, but okay.”

He chuckles, but it dies out a bit as he scans your face. Before you can pick up on what he’s doing his expression becomes lax yet again, and he finally sets the airborne telescope in your car.

“alright, ya ready to go?”

“Well, yes, I’ve been ready.”

“...then what was the telescope for.”

You roll your eyes and step around him without another word. Just as you settle in the front seat of your van, you glance over and nearly jump out again. “Wh—”

“no secrets, remember?”

“Oh shut up,” you snap, your smile betraying your remark. “You just showed me telekinesis.”

“not really, but okay.”

You shoot him a half-hearted glare. “Did I ask for your opinion, Mister?”

“oh so i’m a ‘mister’ now?”

Again, you roll your eyes, and proceed to turn your key in the ignition instead of speaking. All you hear from him is deep laughter for a minute or two; once he’s done (and you ask to make sure) you turn the radio on.

“Sometimes they play really good songs on here,” you inform him, and he just shrugs, because obviously he agrees.

Other than idle conversation between you two, the ride is pretty quiet from then on—until a song comes on that you like. You tap your fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm as Sans gives you an inquisitive look from the passenger seat.

“it’s a slow song,” he points out. You just nod, which causes him to raise a brow. “so why are you tapping?”

“Because I like it.”

“that’s not—ugh,” he grumbles, and you frown, turning to him.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

He drags a hand across his skull, sighing. “you just... make no sense.”

Your smile comes back as you quip, “You make no dollars.”

“...what?”

“We’re here!”

“no we’re not, you’re just—oh, we are.”

You open the door and jump out, then hurry to the back to unlatch the hatch of the trunk. Not even a second passes by before the telescope flies out, way out of your reach. You whip around and narrow your eyes at the skeleton. “Stop it.”

“what?” he asks innocently. “i’m helping.”

“No, you’re being lazy. I don’t care how cool your powers are, we are wasting time.” You hold out your hands and signal for him to bring it over. He doesn’t. “I’m serious,” you growl.

“hi serious, i’m sans.”

“SANS!” you screech.

“you’re starting to sound like papyrus.”

“For good reason! Give me my telescope!”

“no.” Somehow, his grin widens. You just keep scowling, your amusement starting to ebb into annoyance now.

“Give me the...” you start, only to realize he doesn’t have it anymore. You screech again. He just laughs. “WHERE DID YOU PUT THE FREAKING—”

“oh hey, look over there, seems it came back,” he cuts in cheerily, jabbing his thumb at something over in the field. You stomp past him, huffing, and don’t wait for him to follow. You’re relieved to find it _is_ the telescope, but no less irritated.

“It’s almost eight,” you mutter, as if that will prove your point. Sans, of course, just looks at you smugly.

“we’ve got the whole night.”

“But it would have gone faster without your interference,” you counter. “Need I remind you I lead Ebott?”

“so?”

“Therefore, if I fall asleep and ruin my papers via drooling, that’s your fault.”

“then just don’t go to work,” he suggests, like it makes sense. He studies your gaze, then says slowly, “never mind, you’re clearly not gonna listen.”

“Correct.” Without thinking much about your snide response, you start fiddling with the telescope, trying to aim it at a specific spot in the sky.

“...why do you act like this?”

You pause, and turn. “What?”

“why won’t you let people help you?” His eye-sockets narrow on you, and you straighten somewhat.

“It’s not that I don’t let them help, I just...” You sigh. “I don’t _need_ it.”

“everybody needs help sometimes.”

“No. They don’t. Especially me.” You turn back to the telescope. “I’m done with this conversation.”

“...whatever.”

You ignore the frustration in his tone, but don’t move your hands to the object in front of you. Eventually, you hear the rustling of grass, and look to see Sans standing a few feet away, hands awkwardly stuffed into his pockets.

“I’m sorry,” you say, quietly. He tenses slightly. “I’m not treating you fairly. I know you’re just worried about me.”

“yeah, that’s an understatement.”

You huff, forcing down a blush. “But my point still stands; I can take care of myself.”

“i never said you can’t,” he states softly. “but one day, you gotta ask yourself: if you’re taking care of everyone else, then who’s going to take care of you?”

You pretend to flatten out your hair, then go back to messing with the telescope, aware that his eyes are on you.

Once your satisfied with your handiwork, you step back and gesture for Sans to use it. He fidgets somewhat before doing so, adjusting the optical tube slightly before peeking through.

“That’s the Big Dipper,” you explain, and he turns to you with a weird look.

“the what now?”

“It’s part of Ursa Major.” A flash of recognition crosses his face, but he still seems slightly confused. “It’s a famous constellation. It’s also called the Great Bear.”

He peers through the eyepiece for a moment before fixating you with a blank look. “i don’t see it.”

“See what?”

“a bear.”

“No, no, not an actual bear,” you laugh, “it just looks... Kind of like a bear, if you really look at it.”

“...yeah, no, still don’t see it.”

“Alright, fine.” You plop yourself down in the grass, crossing your legs and folding your hands in your lap. You hear some rustling and glance to see he’s joined you—lying down, of course.

“You didn’t use the telescope much. What, are you tired of this already?” you tease. He quickly shakes his head.

“that thing’s cool and all, but ‘m fine lookin’ at them right here.”

“If you say so.”

You fall silent, staring up the night sky. You can’t deny it’s pretty, simply gazing at it, no extra tools involved.

Then, you again consider the fact this is probably the first time Sans has seen stars like this. So you decide to not say anything, for a while.

“thanks.”

You jump a bit, realizing several minutes of quiet have passed. “For what?”

“for... doing all this.”

“Sans, I already told you, I—”

“no.” His voice is surprisingly firm, as well as uncharacteristically serious, so you freeze. “i don’t just mean _this_. all of it.”

“All of what?” you ask, blinking.

You meet his eye-sockets, seeing they’ve widened, as though you said something unbelievable.

Then he starts wheezing. You panic for all of ten seconds before realizing he’s just laughing at you.

“are you... you’re kidding me, right?” he finally manages, after about thirty more seconds of snickering to himself. “you gotta be kidding right now.”

“What?” you inquire indignantly, because you don’t like being laughed at; even if it’s not really _at_ you.

“are you _really_ this clueless?”

“Clueless?!” Okay, that’s it! “I’m not—”

“you seriously don’t get it? what you’ve done?”

Well, no. And putting it that way, it makes it seem like you did something wrong. Did you?

You seem like you’re going to ask just that, as he continues, “no, that’s just it. you didn’t do anything _wrong_. geez, you...” He huffs another short laugh, putting a hand on top of his skull. “like, how modest can a person be?”

“I’m not modest, I’m honest,” you argue, but he shakes his head immediately.

“i feel like i’m in a dream right now. you _seriously_ can’t be real.”

“Sans, I don’t...” you try, again, but trail off as his eye-lights bore into you.

“you really don’t see what i see, do you?” It’s obviously not a question. You shut your mouth. “...huh.”

“What?”

He regards you with a weird expression: a mixture between incredulity and something else. Something... Softer. Then, he gets to his feet. You hurry to follow, and he helps you up, shifting his eyes back towards your telescope. Before you can protest, he uses his magic once more to lift it off the ground.

“Wha—but it’s not even ten yet,” you blurt out, instead of focusing on said magic.

“need i remind you you’ve got work tomorrow?” He winks, and you roll your eyes as you follow him back to the car.

“See, this is what I meant!” you exclaim suddenly, only to discover your passenger had sleeping as he jumps up in alarm. “Oh, sorry...”

“what did you mean?” He glances at you wearily, but amusement shines in his eye-lights.

“This song! It’s more popular than most, and I’m more of an indie person myself—”

“a what?”

“—But it’s still good!”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sans tells you matter-of-factly. You chuckle slightly.

“Here, listen.” You turn up the volume a bit, your other palm lightly hitting the wheel again to the rhythm. Sans sits back in his seat, regarding the lyrics with a less-than-impressed expression.

“...you guys really like romance, don’t you?”

“Oh, shut up.”

By the second verse, you’re humming along with the music, and start singing the chorus to yourself. You even see Sans gently tapping a finger along to the beat at one point, though he probably thinks you don’t notice. But as soon as the song’s over he’s already fallen asleep once more, so you turn down the volume and sing a few songs from your memory.

You pull in their driveway around ten, ironically enough, and upon finding Sans still knocked out, you go around to his side and gently shake him awake. He startles into consciousness, looking almost alarmed until he sees you there.

“Sorry. You’re home,” you explain. “You can’t sleep in my car all night.”

He chuckles, loosening up further. He slides out of the vehicle—quite literally—and pretends to dust himself off. You feign offense as you gasp, “What, is my car really that dirty?”

“oh yes, very,” he snorts. “it’s worse than my room; and trust me, that’s a feat.”

You laugh, and walk him to the door. You notice he keeps sending glances your way, but you don’t think much of it, rubbing your hands together to wipe away some of the cold that had gathered. “That was fun,” you say with a warm smile. “We should do stuff like that more often.”

“uh... yeah.” Why does he look so nervous all of a sudden? Eh, he’s probably just tired. If anything, he likely wants you to leave.

But then, you get that sudden urge to hug him again. And before you know it, you’re doing just that. Just like last time, you’re convinced he’ll shy away, or pull out of the embrace or something, but he doesn’t. In fact, he’s rather quick to put his arms around you in return. It’s almost like... He welcomes it. Weird.

When you release him, he looks almost sleepier than before. You quirk an eyebrow at him, and he seems to blink back to a more alert state. “Well, I should get going,” you say after a moment. “See you later, Sans.”

“see ya.” He still seems somewhat dazed, but you shrug it off and walk back to your van. While pulling out, you give him one last wave, before disappearing into the night.

* * *

Sans stands on the doorstep of his house for a good five minutes, not moving, his grin having faltered despite the way his soul fluttered obnoxiously in his ribcage.

_****._

This... Is probably not good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^^
> 
> [song 1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmrf_dBIhQI)  
[song 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FM7MFYoylVs)


	21. Not Foreseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You hang out with William, and Sans reflects on the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff? angst?? in-between??? yeah, that's what I'll call this chapter. because i'm not quite sure what happened here. oh, and just to clarify, i never said _who_ the slow burn would be for in this story :) 
> 
> unfortunately, regarding that, most of this chapter is plot-related. but i swear there's a point to all this lol

It’s really stupid. Really, really stupid. Like, _loads_ of stupid. Can he say that enough? He doesn’t think so.

I mean, this isn’t even _logical_. You just pity him. That’s the only reason you did all that, so why should he... Why _does_ he?

You barely know him. He barely knows you. There’s probably thousands of things you aren’t telling him, and thousands of secrets you have—because your very existence makes no sense to him—and yet, _yet_, you...

The worst part of it is that the evening actually started out pretty well. Nothing changed. Nothing was different. Sure, he supposes he might have been happy to see and talk to you again but that was just because you were doing something _he_ had an interest in. He appreciated that, especially when you offered to bring your own telescope. It was nice of you; a bit too nice, maybe. That was the only reason he wanted to do it, because _you_ wanted to. (And also because he did but because he hadn’t looked much at the stars on the surface yet.)

You were perfectly fine with going through with the whole thing, he gathered. You didn’t even seem all that freaked out by his magic, either—which is more than he can say about most humans on the surface so far. They’re nice enough, yes, but... When it comes to actual monster magic, he’s noticed they are a bit hesitant. As much as he understands their reasoning, for once someone not being afraid of him is kinda refreshing.

...That isn’t to say there _aren’t_ some humans like you, he told himself. There are. You’re not... All that different.

But, the fact you clearly didn’t understand what he had thanked you for bothered him. It still does, honestly. Despite this, he could tell you were tired, and a bit cold, judging by the way you absently kept rubbing your hands together. You were probably feeling miserable anyway, without him adding on to whatever it was that bothered you. And he didn’t want to keep you any longer than he had to; you probably had better things to do, after all.

He also didn’t really like the idea of you carrying the telescope, even if he could have helped you carry it. So he took to using his magic again instead; you were annoyed, of course, but the fact you got over it so quickly proved how exhausted you must have been. It made him feel guilty, again, for some reason. Like you deserved better.

And even then, he ignored it. Even when he heard you singing, probably off-key in some parts but not at all unpleasant, he ignored it. Even upon realizing he felt safe around you, safer than he has in years, he ignored it.

...But then you walked him to the door, and hugged him, and it felt... Oddly like a date. Too much like one. Too much to not notice, too much to not notice _how it made his soul feel. _And it was a good thing you left quickly because otherwise, he might have blurted something he’d regret, and then things would just be even more awkward and weird and... Stupid.

He figured it out, though.

And it definitely isn’t good.

He’s not supposed to... Feel like this. It’s idiotic. It’s too soon. _He barely knows you._

But... You _are_ his friend, right? At least he can say that much. Does it make it okay?

_..._ _No. No__, it doesn’t._

_He’s not supposed to trust you._

And, in any case, he shouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He doesn’t want to.

But he does. And it isn’t fair.

It just... Isn’t.

If only if it would go away. He really wants it to. He really _needs_ it to. If it just goes away, things will be easier; better.

If it doesn’t... Then he might as well just give up right here.

It won’t matter anyway, right?

By morning, Sans is feeling... Somewhat better. Better enough to not feel sorry for himself and better enough to check his phone, not fearing the fact you might have texted him; because you did. Of course you did.

** _miss president: _ ** _Hey, I know this is sudden but William wants to take us out for coffee or something. He wants to talk to you more I guess?_

...Oh. Yeah, no, that’s not happening. As selfish as it is, he doesn’t really want to see you right now.

** _sans: _ ** _sorry but _ _i_ _ can’t_

** _miss president: _ ** _Why? Are you alright?_

The fact you asked that makes his soul and face warm, and he temporarily forgets what he was upset about—not enough to be okay with seeing you, though.

** _sans: _ ** _im_ _ fine, just tired. don’t _ _wanna_ _ ruin your plans _ _tho__, go ahead and _ _go_

** _miss president: _ ** _Okay, so no friend outing. Guess I have a date then._

...What.

His smile twitches.

** _sans: _ ** _a what now_ _?_

There’s a pause before you reply, and he considers breaking his phone.

** _miss president: _ ** _Do you actually think I meant that?? Because gross, no. He’s like my brother._

Phew. That’s g—_wait __wait__, no it’s not, that’s the opposite of good, he shouldn’t be relieved. _What is wrong with him?

** _sans: _ ** _k just clarifying, _ _cuz_ _ that made no sense_

** _miss president: _ ** _What, you don’t think anyone would date me?_

** _sans: _ ** _no just _ _hopedakljdskj_

** _sans: _ ** _aassumed_ _ you’re not into that kind of thing_

Yup, nice save.

You seem to buy, it at least—as in you make fun of his typos, which is better than he could’ve asked for.

* * *

_Wow, _you think, quirking an eyebrow at your phone. _He must be really tired to have made those errors._

Shaking your head in amusement, you stuff the device into your purse and glance back at the man currently lounging backwards in your car’s passenger seat.

“Anytime you want to leave, go ahead,” he mutters, making you snort.

“Okay, Mr. Impatient, I’m done. Really,” you add, “if you truly want to get moving that badly, _you_ could have driven us.”

He scrunches up his face in a scowl. “Yeeeah, no thanks. I’ll leave the driving part up to you.”

You shrug. “Suit yourself,” you say as you step on the gas.

Thankfully, the coffee shop you’re going to isn’t that far away—from his house, that is. He lives closer to the middle of the city, unlike your home, which is pretty much secluded from all society except your neighbors. The genius had proposed the idea that morning, and practically forced you to just bring your van and go along with it; he claimed he wanted to talk to you about work, or something. But you know better. He’s worried about you, just like the rest of them. And right now, it’s getting on your nerves more than anything.

“We’re here!” you announce, forcing that thought quickly to the back of your mind. William jumps out of the car without warning, and you follow after, tucking your keys securely into your back pocket. Once ready, you join him into walking up to the fancy glass doors, the cold puddles in the parking lot splashing the rim of your jeans on the way.

“Hey, Chrissy!” Will runs up ahead of you and into the café before you know what’s happening; you trudge silently behind him, rolling your eyes as you hear his voice reach a slightly higher pitch as he talks to the barista at the counter: “How’s the fam?”

Oh, you can tell this is going to be a meaningful conversation already.

Christine (that’s her real name, and you refuse to call her by the nickname he does) grins a bright grin back at him, clearly not opposed to his sudden approach. “Will, it’s so good to see you!” she exclaims happily. “And we’re doing pretty good, actually. In fact I—”

She halts in the middle of her sentence, signaling that she’s seen you. You inwardly groan as she switches her attention from William to you, which clearly disappoints him. “Miss Lara,” she greets you, wide-eyed. “I... Didn’t know you’d be coming.”

You smile in response, though it’s strained. “Yes, um... You can thank Will here for that, haha.”

“Is there anything I can get you?” she continues, like you hadn’t spoken at all; it annoys you a bit, but you don’t voice complaints. “You want your regular, right?”

“Just water today, actually,” you tell her. “I’m sure William—”

“Plain water, or with lemon?”

Oh, for Pete’s sake. “Plain,” you reply, your smile bordering on something that’s far, far too sweet and forced. “That will be all.”

“Are you—”

“YES. I mean, yes.” You quickly back away, then push William forward in your place. “I’ll just go find a place to sit now. Take your time, Will,” you add, giving him a thumbs up that’s not nearly as enthusiastic as you were trying to make it, then stiffly walk over to an empty booth that’s by one of the windows. You slide into the seat calmly, even if it’s anything but calm inside your head right now.

_Well, that was ridiculous, _you think, sighing to yourself. Honestly, though, you probably shouldn’t be surprised, should you? You know she works here. I mean, heck, even if it wasn’t her, there’s a pretty good chance you’d be payed more attention to than your companion.

...Doesn’t mean you still can’t be frustrated, however.

A few minutes later, William appears with your water and a paper cup full of coffee. Thankfully, he still seems in a chipper mood, so you’re thinking it’s safe to assume Christine actually talked to him.

“What did you get this time?” you ask as he sits himself in the booth across from you, already sipping his own drink.

“Mocha espresso,” he replies, then proceeds to lick his lips like the slob he is. You shake your head as you reach for your water.

“You are _so_ uninteresting.”

“What?!” His voice drifts a bit too loudly, and you cringe as some of the people around you peer curiously in your direction. Thankfully, Will notices as well, and thinks better of his reputation as he hisses, “What nerve gives you the right to say that?”

“Mocha espressos are your favorite, everybody knows that,” you respond simply, but he’s quick to give you a smug grin.

“Not anymore.”

“...Not anymore?”

“Yeah! I’m not as predictable as you think I am, so there!” He goes to take another sip of his coffee.

“Is your new favorite a mocha latte, per chance?”

He spits out the coffee, drenching the table in front of him. You hand him a napkin calmly as he glares fiercely at you.

“Not as predictable as I think, hmm?” you muse. He wipes his chin with a deep scowl, mocking you under his breath and causing you to finally burst into a fit of snickers.

“Excuse me?” a saccharine-sweet, yet deep voice suddenly cuts in from beside you. “Lara, is it?”

You turn your head, already preparing a polite greeting, but stop short as you take in the sight of the man standing there.

“Bill,” you acknowledge, cautiously. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Will clutch his coffee tighter.

Before you can respond, the man takes a seat next to you, edging closer; you tense, but say nothing as he flashes a bright grin at you. “Any news?”

“...No.” As though to prove your point, you shake your head a bit. He just grins wider.

“Good, good. Nothing to worry about, then, right?”

“What do you want?” you question, not giving him a chance to weave his way into small talk anymore. He shows no sign of being aggravated at this, propping his feet up on the table as you force yourself to refrain from shoving them off.

“What, can’t a guy talk to some old friends?” He gives you an innocent look which you, of course, don’t buy in the least. “I mean...” He pokes you and you shrink back instantly, narrowing your eyes at him as he continues, “We had a pretty good friend circle back then, thanks to you.”

Your expression darkens. “Well, now look where that got us.”

“I know.” He frowns. “I still wonder about that.”

“I still wonder why you haven’t left Ebott,” you say bluntly. Something flashes in his eyes, but it quickly vanishes.

“Because the way I see it, we need to catch up,” he goes on, “and that isn’t going to happen unless we have a little chat, _Miss_ Lara.”

You grab your water again and take a gulp, then set it down, taking your time. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you tell him after a pause—instantly, you feel the irritation radiate off of him, buzzing like you’ve just released a thousand bees.

“Really? What about how you made L—”

“Please leave.”

Finally, for once, he seems taken aback. A part of you takes pride in that. “...What?”

“Please leave,” you repeat, calmly, and orderly. “I do not want to have this discussion with you, Bill. It will waste my time. I presume even a man of your... Background... Can see that.”

Bill stares at you, mouth agape. He looks about ready to strangle you, if the look he’s giving you is anything to go by—but some plates clashing in the kitchen seems to redirect his attention, and reluctantly, he forces himself to give you a professional smile again.

“Very well,” he states. “If that is what you wish. But,” he leans forward, voice dropping, “do not think I have let this go. We _will_ have that chat of ours soon; and _he’ll_ know firsthand.”

He slides back out of the booth, giving you a fake, cutesy little wave and smirk that sends your stomach rolling and your blood boiling. You turn back to your water, boring your attention into it like you can burn it with sight alone.

“Just for the record, I never liked him,” William points out, causing you to laugh, despite everything.

“You and me both,” you agree.

“Does it still count as murder if it’s a guy you actively don’t like?”

“Yes.”

“Dang it.”

There’s a moment of silence between you two.

“...Why _is_ he still here, anyway?”

You shrug, trailing your finger across the surface of the napkin in front of you. “Probably just to bug me. ...I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re still in contact, though.” You hesitate.

“Yeah, but we can take ‘em!” He slams his cup of coffee down, ignoring how it splashes onto his hand and giving you one of his best grins.

“Really?” you say, amusement turning the edges of your mouth upwards. He nods vigorously.

“Of course! No one’s ever stopped us before!”

“If you say so,” you chuckle. His smile falters.

“Hey, don’t settle yourself so short,” he tells you quietly. “I know you can handle this.”

_Can I?_

“I mean, you did with Bill back there. So what if a few old mishaps get in your way?” He gives a reassuring look, his green eyes shining with sincerity. “You’ve got this, Lara. Trust me.” To top it off, he holds out his fist towards you. You snort, and bump yours to his.

Eh, you suppose he has a point.

You’ve made it this far after all, right?


	22. Premonition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 ON 2/2/2020 WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT BOYOS
> 
> (okay technically 2/3/2020 but that's only what archive automatically had it set to mkay)
> 
> so anyway, chapter 11 is now the middle point in the story; and that chapter's pretty plot-relevant, you can imagine this baby's gonna be plot-relevant too lol. believe it or not though, it wasn't supposed to be this angsty; nor was the story as a whole. basically, i lied in the tags.
> 
> oof
> 
> in the meantime, have a fun fact:  
literally everything up to this point was based off the title of [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBgJknKEgEE)  


You haven’t heard from either of them since two days. You've tried calling Papyrus, and Toriel, but they always say the same things: that he’d talk to him, or she’d talk to them. You’re relieved when Sans finally starts texting you again, but Frisk... They’re ignoring you completely.

It seems it’s not just you they’re giving the cold shoulder, either; Sans told you they’ve been silent with him too. Papyrus, even, talked to you about it, admitting they’ve been acting rather odd and apologizing on their behalf. It isn’t until he mentions them “telling everyone about their abilities” that you finally understand what’s going on.

You end up calling Toriel, and asking her if she could let Frisk speak with you; she agrees, likely not seeing how much Frisk would rather not. As you predict, the child sounds apprehensive as they say through the receiver, _“Hello?”_

Might as well get to the point. “Listen,” you begin, “I know it wasn’t easy for you. But I’m glad you told them.”

_“I’m not.” ..._Okay? Um? Are they going to elaborate?

“Frisk, it’s really not that big of a—”

_“Yes, it is!” _

You wince as they snap at you, but swallow back your uncertainty. “It isn’t,” you insist. “Your determination isn’t a bad thing, but it’s a lot of responsibility for you to have; that’s why I was pushing everything. You understand that, don’t you?”

There’s a pause. Then... _“YOU don’t understand,” _they manage, sounding like they’re gritting their teeth.

“I—”

_“You don’t. Why do you think Sans has such a problem with me?”_

What does _that_ have to do with anything? Was he mad they weren’t being honest with everyone? Before you can ask as much, they go on, in a low tone, _“This was never any of your business. I don’t know why you’re interfering now; I don’t know why you’re HERE.”_

There’s a beep. You don’t hear anything else, and it takes you a while to realize they’ve hung up on you.

* * *

“why the hell did you do that?”

“Language.”

Sans laughs darkly. “if you didn’t want to talk, you could’ve just ignored it. you’re good at that.”

Frisk glares at him, but says nothing more. They walk back to Toriel and hand her the phone, doing as suggested as they pay no mind to the skeleton’s dark stare behind them.

He supposes it could be worse. You could have tried to come here in person. They could have said that to your face.

...Doesn’t make him any less mad, though.

* * *

You spend the next few hours at Will’s house, helping him go through some old boxes. He’s been pretty lenient with how much you do so far, considering, but to even your surprise, you manage to rummage through quite a lot without getting too upset.

When he starts playing some country songs with a few of some old favorites, you hum along self-indulgently, as does he on the songs he likes. You’re interrupted upon finding a photo album you forgot existed, and spend a good five minutes flipping vacantly through the pictures; William yanks it from your hands shortly after, simply to look at it himself, and the two of you share a couple inside jokes with each other over various subjects that are featured in the album.

It’s actually... Nice. Nicer than you thought it would be, when you first came here today. And you’re really glad for that.

“Heey, look at this!” Will suddenly shouts.

“What?” You hobble over to him, peering over his shoulder to see what he’s seeing... Only to scrunch up your face in a very bewildered scowl.

“Why is _that_ here with all this stuff?” You pluck the object out of his hand, peering at the four figures in the photograph intently.

He merely shrugs. “I guess I accidentally threw it in here.”

“You’ve only known them for two months, though,” you point out inquisitively. “...Well, about two months. I barely know them myself, technically speaking. Why would you have this?”

“I think...” He frowns, taking the photo back from you. “I know I remember it being taken, if it’s any consolation.”

“When was it taken?” you prompt. He only frowns deeper.

“I don’t... Know the _exact_ date, but...” He stares at the item, as though trying to look for an answer of some sort. “It was a little while ago? At New Year’s? I don’t know. This _is_ at the festival.” He shrugs again. You hum.

“And I wasn’t aware of this?” you ask, more confused than annoyed, if anything. “I mean... They’re my friends too, you think I _would_ be aware...”

“I’m not sure what to tell you. Sorry.” He looks back at you, and a broad smile cuts through his frown. “To be fair, you know I don’t have the best memory; this probably was taken on New Year’s, I just forgot to tell you. But yeah, not like I’d know, huh? It’s pretty empty up here,” he pokes at the top of his head with a cheeky grin. You chuckle.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” you inform.

“Really,” he blinks, “I can’t remember what I had for breakfast.”

Laughing once more, you slug him in the arm, only slightly hard. “If you say so,” you tell him, smiling fondly.

On your drive back to your house, you suddenly get the idea to ask Sans about the photo you two found—granted, you want to try to be at least a little safe, so you wait to pull into your driveway before you text him. You’re not sure why, but for some reason, the mystery of when this picture happened is kind of bugging you. Just for good measure, you take a picture of the picture with your phone and send it to him as well.

** _You: _ ** _Hey, did you, Will, Frisk and Papyrus take this picture at the New Year’s festival?_

** _You: _ ** _[image_01]_

** _Sans: _ ** _uhhh_ _ maybe? idk_

** _Sans: _ ** _it’s _ _kinda_ _ been a while_

You furrow your eyebrows at that. New Year’s was only in January, it couldn’t have been that long!

** _You: _ ** _what do you mean? The New Year’s festival happened just last month._

By the time he responds, you’re out of the car and turning your keys into the lock of your house’s front door. You look down at your phone to see it’s been over two minutes since your last message.

** _Sans: _ ** _oh.right_

** _Sans: _ ** _it probably happened then_

** _Sans: _ ** _it did_

The last two messages are sent one right after the other, almost like he’d been in a rush to get the second out. You slowly step into your house, but don’t move from the threshold.

_..._Something is wrong.

** _You: _ ** _is something up? You seem out of whack._

You wince slightly at your word usage, but patiently await his response.

It’s... Not what you’re expecting.

** _Sans: _ ** _sorry._

** _Sans: _ ** _i_ _ can’t._

...He can’t what?

You try asking just that, but he doesn’t reply further. You don’t press him, and go to bed early.

But you leave your phone on all night, just in case.


	23. Buried Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something’s bothering Sans. You hope he tells you what it is.
> 
> All you can really do is wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm being productive with this finally aaa
> 
> Recently I started playing a game called Finding Paradise--granted, I've already seen other people play it, but I'm doing it solely for my mom to watch haha. It has such a beautiful story, I'd definitely recommend it! 
> 
> Anyway, naturally, I decided to put part of Finding Paradise's influence into the beginning of this chapter, since I couldn't help myself. Specifically, Lara was playing [The Scale Theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwC_vCNYHRc) from it, just because lol.
> 
> (There's literally even a cello and guitar version on the soundtrack, so I'm TOTALLY thinking of making her and Will actually play it together later along the line. c;)
> 
> Again, Finding Paradise is such a beautiful game, please check it out if you haven't yet, as well as its prequel To The Moon! They're at its best when you experience them yourself--which I did not do--but if you can't, just look up a playthrough of the games, I promise you won't be disappointed! ^^  
<strike>I swear I am not being sponsored to say this btw</strike>

You set your alarm for four-thirty, rather than your usual time. You take a brief shower and eat a bit too quickly, and by the time you’re done, it’s only a little past five. You’re almost certain Asgore is still asleep in the spare bedroom, so you go elsewhere instead.

You’re not sure why you have the sudden urge to play, out of all days and times you could do this. It might be because you’re a bit stressed, or just... Feel like you need to, after so long. When it comes to impulsions, you’re pretty consistent: you just go through with what you want, usually, and ask questions later. You don’t always have reasons for such actions, either. You just _do_ them, when you can.

And right now, you’re sitting in your van, strumming your guitar like you remember exactly how to play it—of course, you don’t. You’re probably rusty. You’re probably off-key, and you know you keep hitting the notes over and over just to get them right; just to sound a bit better, even if it’s clunky in all retrospect. To anyone listening that would be tedious and annoying, but to you, it’s part of being a perfectionist. You’re not exactly playing for anyone, either, so it’s not like you care; I mean, you’re playing scales for the most part, nobody wants to hear those.

But, scales are something you actually like doing, regardless of how many “real” songs you know. Maybe it’s because they make you feel experienced? You know you really aren’t, but improving your finger movements is something you strive for, and just the idea alone that you can move on the guitar relatively well makes you feel like you’re pretty good at what you do.

You check the time about a half an hour later, and the clock reads seven o’ two. You figure you still have a bit of time left before you actually have to start your day, so you try playing your own version of a song you’ve heard from a video game; having played it on guitar before, albeit a while ago, you don’t struggle too much with it—mostly because it literally has scales in it as well, and the main melody is pretty easy to follow.

Once you’re done you head back inside, the guitar haphazardly strung over your shoulder before you set it back down in your closet upstairs. When you come back down and sit at the dining table, Asgore is coming out of his room.

“Good morning,” you greet, sending him a smile before glancing back down at your phone. Your smile fades slightly as you open your text messages, spotting no new ones from Sans.

“Is everything alright, Lara?” the former king asks you softly, eyeing the furrow of your brows.

“I... Don’t know,” you reply, honestly. You wait for him to pull up a chair before you continue: “Something’s going on between Frisk and Sans.”

Asgore inquires gently, “Why do you feel it concerns you?”

“I don’t, I just...” You fidget a bit. “Sans is clearly upset about... Something they did. I know I shouldn’t be taking sides but—”

“But you’re worried about how it is affecting him,” he concludes. Pausing, you nod slowly.

“I could be taking it the wrong way. It just feels... It feels like—I-I don’t know.” You nearly bite your tongue, somewhat aggravated with your inability to voice your concerns in a manner that truly makes sense. “Maybe it’s something really miniscule. Maybe they already apologized. ...It doesn’t seem that way, though. Does... Does that make any sense?”

The monster processes it for a moment, appearing thoughtful. “Truthfully,” he eventually admits, with a quick, dry chuckle, “I am probably the last one you should go to for advice on personal matters. However... In the short time I have known Frisk, I have gathered one thing from them: and that is they stick to one goal, and one goal only, regardless of what it may cost them.”

“Sans told me something similar,” you murmur, more so to yourself than him; but he hears, nodding slowly.

“I do not know what ‘goal’ they may have now,” he goes on, “but I am certain the only reason they’re upset, is because Sans must be keeping them from that goal.”

_...Why would he be keeping them from a goal? _you wonder, blinking.

“Why, I’m not sure of,” he says, as though he can read your thoughts. “I am afraid that is all I can offer you.”

You shake your head, offering another smile, even if it’s forced. “Don’t worry about it,” you say. “I’ll... Figure it out.” Maybe. You’re still reluctant in forcing anything out of anyone—especially Sans.

“Now that I am sure of.” He beams warmly at you, as though you’re the epitome of good-will itself; trying not to seem rude, or prove that philosophy wrong for his sake, you excuse yourself from the table, apologizing briefly before heading towards the kitchen.

* * *

** _You: _ ** _Hey._

** _You: _ ** _C__hecking up on you again, in case. Sorry._

** _You:_ ** _ Just let me know when I get annoying, heh._

You go back to watching the cooking show with Asgore, freely commenting on something you think they could have done better in accordance to the production, when your phone dings, making you jump. Not really hearing his question of concern, you stare down at the mobile screen for a good thirty seconds.

** _Sans: _ ** _you’re not annoying_

...Holy crap. That’s the first response you’ve gotten out of him in a while.

Are you finally lucking out?

Even so, you decide to keep your message simple, so as not to scare him away somehow.

** _You: _ ** _Hi!! How are you?_

You bite your lip, considering even that might be a little too much; but you briefly relax when your phone vibrates in your hands.

** _Sans: _ ** _could be better._

...Yeah. Probably.

** _Sans: _ ** _sorry for avoiding you, anyhow_

**_Sans: _**_know __thats_ _ur__ favorite pastime but still_

Despite yourself, you grin; mostly to take the edge off, and partially because of relief, but even so.

** _You: _ ** _It’s alright. I’m happy to talk to you again. :)_

A minute passes before you get a reply from him, but you’re not so much worried he won’t altogether rather than worried about him in general.

** _Sans: _ ** _thans_

** _Sans: _ ** _*thanks_

** _Sans: _ ** _sorry_

Quickly, your smile disappears. Is he... Apologizing for a typo?

** _You: _ ** _hey it’s perfectly fine! Typing on phones is hard_

** _You: _ ** _Anyway. I hope you feel better soon._

You hesitate, before sending out your next text.

** _You: _ ** _I’m still here for you, if you need to talk._

Minutes pass after that. You’re almost convinced he’s decided not to respond when...

** _Sans: _ ** _k_

During the night, you receive two more texts from Sans, though you’re already asleep at that point.

However, you look at them in the morning.

** _Sans: _ ** _everythings_ _ usually the same._

** _Sans: _ ** _but _ _im_ _ glad _ _youre_ _ here now._

You’ll... Ask about that later, you think.

You’ve got some overdue paperwork that needs to be signed first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand here we have probably the most self-indulgent chapter i've made thus far, because I too have this issue like Lara where I tend to do just whatever I feel like when I feel like it, even if it's out of the blue
> 
> I also really like doing scales on piano, which is... very odd i'll admit, but oh well :')
> 
> also, the conversation with Asgore is him "generalizing" things; of course, he doesn't really know what's going on with Frisk at the moment, but part of his speech does have to do with what's going on with them.


	24. I'll Paint A Ray of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn what Sans meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> title is from the song Candle on the Water
> 
> also, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE FEEDBACK, MINE GOSH. I love you all so, so much, eeee <333
> 
> AND FULLFANDOMFREAK IS LITERALLY MAKING ME FANART *SCREECH* PLEASE GO CHECK HER OUT HERE'S THE LINK TO HER PROFILE:  
https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullFandomFreak/pseuds/FullFandomFreak
> 
> please please go give her support, she's really sweet and really awesome (and just so she knows i promise i wasn't rushing this c:)
> 
> ANYway, here, have this emotional train-wreck-of-a-chapter!! I hope you guys like it, and I hope it makes everyone's day haha (once the angst is outta the way) ;w;

Why did you have to do that? Why did you have to make him _believe_...

Why did he _listen_ to you?

Why did he tell you?

_..._He... Really shouldn’t have said that to you. About everything being the same. About... Being glad you’re here.

(Even if he _is_ glad you’re here.)

Sure, you’re... The first in a long time. The first person since the beginning, actually, but... This is ridiculous. He can’t be that shallow. So WHAT if you’re new?!

_So what if you haven’t been here before_ _?!_

You shouldn’t know, shouldn’t even have the slightest _hint_ that there’s... That he’s... That something’s wrong.

You shouldn’t know that. You’re too good for that.

Too good for him.

Too good for his problems.

He... Wishes you hadn’t said you’d be there. Because then he’d felt safe again. Like he could tell you anything, and you wouldn’t... You _won’t_ care.

...But you will. He knows you will. You _have_ to. You _have_ to think he’s crazy, because nothing is ever _not_ crazy, _nothing_ works in his favor _ever_ and—

He doesn’t even know why you exist, now. It’s... It’s not normal. And even if you _don’t_ leave, or don’t disappear—like he thinks you will, sometimes—why should that change anything, really? It _won’t_ change. It won’t. It won’t work. He messed up, somehow, and this is his punishment for it. The universe is destined to overrule him, over, and over, and _over_, because he’s _weak_, and hopeless. Maybe it’s because it _knows_ that, and wants to toy with him; because _nothing_ he does makes a difference. _Because he can’t fix things._

Is this... Some sort of false hope? He wouldn’t be surprised. He wouldn’t be surprised if you’re anything _but_ that, with his luck and all. He hates the fact you might be; not because it doesn’t work in his favor, but because it’s hard to find someone like you, in general. Monsters deserve someone like you to help them.

...And what if something happens to you? What if you can’t... Lead anymore, for whatever reason?

<strike>What if _he_ comes back?</strike>

What if they chase you away?

...Oh stars, what if they reset?

_What if you disappear forever—_

No. No, no, don’t think like that, Sans. Frisk won’t reset. They have no reason to.

(Not now, anyways...)

There’s... Still time. He still has a chance. You still have a chance of staying. Even if he... Messes up with you... Even if he chases you away—and he will, won’t he?—you’ll still be around. Right?

...Oh, who is he kidding. He shouldn’t even care, after all.

If you leave, so what?

Just another thing to add to his list of everything wrong with life.

It’s fine. He’s fine.

Just because you’ve... _Helped everyone_, doesn’t mean anything.

Everything is temporary. He knows that firsthand. He’ll just... Stop trying to think otherwise.

Frisk’s in control.

He knows it’s hopeless.

* * *

You finished your paperwork over an hour ago. You’ve tried calling, a couple times now, but no luck. When Sans doesn’t answer, you call Papyrus; then thank the stars above that he picks up.

“Is Sans there?” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. You don’t mean to sound so rude, but...

_“YES, MOST LIKELY!”_

_Most likely?_

_“SOMETIMES HE LEAVES WITHOUT WARNING,”_ Papyrus clarifies, and... Okay. That’s kind of worrying. Where does Sans go? _“BUT HE SHOULD BE IN HIS ROOM CURRENTLY!”_

“Do you know if...” How do you word this? “Is he okay? He, uh... Sent me kind of a weird message last night?”

You can practically _hear_ him frown. _“WHAT KIND OF MESSAGE?”_

Oh, wait... Would Sans even want you to tell him? Papyrus is his brother, but...

But he specifically opened up to you about... Whatever that was. You get the feeling he doesn’t want anyone else to know, for whatever reason.

“It was just weird... It wasn’t anything specific.” Ugh, you’re a terrible liar.

_“OKAY, WELL... IT’S FINE IF YOU DON’T WANT TO TELL ME,”_ Crap, he knows— _“BUT I’D LIKE TO KNOW IF IT’S ABOUT FRISK, AT LEAST.”_

“I don’t k—”

_“I DIDN’T THINK YOU KNEW, YES, BUT I WAS HOPING YOU’D FIGURE IT OUT FOR ME.”_

...Huh?

_“UM, LET ME EXPLAIN,” _he goes on, sounding almost sheepish. _“SANS USUALLY... DOESN’T TELL ME ANYTHING ABOUT HOW HE FEELS. I THINK HE THINKS IT’LL UPSET ME, OR... PUSH ME AWAY. GRANTED, I AM ALREADY AWARE OF EVERYTHING HE GOES THROUGH, BUT _**_HE_**_ DOESN’T KNOW THAT.”_

Oh. Alright. “But how does that explain me?” you ask dumbly.

_“I THINK... YOU’RE DIFFERENT. EITHER HE’S NOT AFRAID OF YOU PUSHING HIM AWAY OR HE JUST DOESN’T THINK IT WILL MATTER, LIKE IT WOULD WITH ME. I’M REALLY NOT SURE, BUT, IN ANY CASE... IT’S EASIER FOR HIM TO TALK TO YOU. I KNOW THAT MUCH.”_

Has he really gathered all _that_ from this conversation? Or...

Is _Sans_ making it obvious?

“I’m... I appreciate your trust in me, Papyrus,” you say, “but I’m not sure I’m... The answer. It’s clearly something personal between him and Frisk—for _some_ reason—so what’s to say _they_ wouldn’t be able to fix things eventually?”

Papyrus sighs, somewhat sadly, and you kind of want to take your question back. _“HE AND FRISK USED TO BE VERY CLOSE,” _he tells you, after a pause. _“THEY STILL... USUALLY ARE,SOMETIMES, BUT... IT’S DIFFERENT NOW. I THINK FRISK HURT HIM VERY, VERY BADLY. I... DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY COULD HAVE POSSIBLY DONE TO MAKE HIM SO UPSET, ESPECIALLY SINCE THIS STARTED HAPPENING SO RECENTLY—IT’S GOTTEN WORSE, SOMEHOW._

_“I’M SURE I SOUND DESPERATE TO YOU,” _he continues meekly, _“BUT NOBODY IS EXACTLY MAKING IT EASY FOR ME, RIGHT NOW. CLEARLY EVERYONE THINKS I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON, WHEN I DO. THEY THINK THAT... THAT I SHOULDN’T BE ABLE TO DEAL WITH THINGS LIKE THAT. MY OWN BROTHER WON’T EVEN _**_TALK_**_ TO ME PARTIALLY BECAUSE HE THINKS THAT! IT’S—” _He stops, realizing his voice was starting to rise a bit too much. _“IT’S VERY FRUSTRATING. YOU UNDERSTAND... DON’T YOU?”_

Oh, do you ever. “Yeah, I get it. I’m... I’m sorry, Pap.”

_“THAT’S... WHY I WANT YOU TO HELP. HE MIGHT TALK TO _**_YOU_**_. __THAT WAY, I CAN KNOW HE’S... DOING A BIT BETTER, AT LEAST. I DON’T... WANT HIM TO SUFFER ALONE.” _He takes a barely audible, shaky breath, but you hear it all the same—and it only makes you feel worse.

“Okay. I’ll...” I mean, you can’t just say _no_.

You owe it to both of them, after all.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you finally say.

You... Haven’t felt this pressured in a long time, quite honestly. Not because you think anyone else is pressuring you, but because _you_ are, which is somewhat worse, in a way. (Okay, it’s a lot worse.)

Granted, you’ve had to help friends out before, of course, but... This is different. It feels like you’re being counted on, more than you ever have been. You _really_ don’t want to screw it up.

...Even though you hesitate before knocking on his door—which obviously means you’re off to a _great_ start.

“Um... Sans?” you call, trying to not sound too loud but at the same time considering the fact he may or may not be asleep, and that... You don’t want to walk in on that.

You get an almost immediate response, which, at first, is a relief; until you realize that you weren’t really _wanting_ a kind of reaction like the door opening, whatever... Whatever it _is_ you were actually wanting.

“what are you doing here?”

Uh... Okay. This is new.

Just... Pretend it isn’t, and it doesn’t totally freak you out that he’s glaring daggers at you, something he’s _never _done.

You give him a watery smile. “Um, checking on you?”

“i don’t need—”

“Yes, you kind of do. I saw the text you sent me.”

He tenses. “so?”

“So I want to talk about it—”

You barely get that out before his eye-sockets stretch wide, looking almost... Panicked. You’re almost _certain_ he’s going to shut the door on you, because his grip on the knob gets tighter.

“Wait, wait!” you cut in quickly, before he can do as such. “I already talked to Papyrus!”

Sans stops. His eye-lights shrink even more. “you... wh-what?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t actually tell him anything.” He looks... Less tense at hearing that. That’s good, you think? Um, progress? “He wants me to talk to you too.”

“...no.”

Uhh. “No what?”

“i don’t want to talk to you,” he informs you matter-of-factly. He seems to hesitate a great deal before adding, “i don’t want you here.”

You just smile assuringly, like that didn’t hurt you. “Well, _I_ want me here. _Your brother _wants me here. That’s two against one.”

“that isn’t—”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you pull him into a hug, cutting off his words almost instantly. He goes stiff, but remains where he is, not exactly protesting.

“I want you to talk to me,” you say, your chin casually resting on his shoulder. “Seriously. I’m not leaving until you do.”

He huffs out what you think is a sigh. You pull away, and observe the fact that his face has that cyan tint to it again.

“are you sure Pap’s not just makin’ you do this?” he grumbles.

“Completely sure.”

“...what exactly do you want to talk about, anyhow?”

“How you’re feeling,” you reply simply. He stares at you for... Quite a while, before saying anything.

“you... shouldn’t worry about that.”

“Uh, yeah,” you respond, “I should. You’re my friend.”

It might be your imagination, but the blue on his cheeks seems to grow.

“And I want to know what you meant by everything’s the same,” you add, after a moment. “That’s... Kind of specific? The way you put it, anyway. Is that how you feel about things?”

Somehow, though it should be impossible, he seems to go paler at your words.

“n-no, i... i can’t. it’s not...” He shakes his head, as though to emphasize.

“Sans—”

“y-you don’t understand,” he interrupts, weakly.

“I _do_. I know what you’re going through, trust me, and I know it’s not easy to open up to anyone, but...” Gently, you rest your hands on his shoulders, and give him another smile. “But it’s okay. You can tell me. I promise I can help.”

He avoids your gaze for some time, still appearing reluctant; then he lets out another breath, more shaky this time, more unhinged.

Then he pulls away. Just as you’re about to argue, he croaks, “you’re not supposed to be here.”

“I am _too_ supposed to—” you start retorting, and stop when you see the way his eyes are boring into you.

“no. you’re not supposed to _be here_.”

“...What do you mean?”

Sans turns around instead, heading back into his bedroom. You pause, then follow him in, softly closing the door behind you. You look around for a moment, taking in your surroundings. It’s... Messier than you imagined, but you’re not judging.

“It looks nice here,” you say suddenly, your attention falling on something in particular. “Didn’t expect you to have it on, though.” You also leave out the fact that you’re surprised it’s on the table right beside his bed. Seems he has a thing for lava lamps now.

“uh... yeah.” He goes over to his bed and sits down, looking a bit awkward as you go over; you probably make it more awkward as you decide to join him on said bed.

“So what’s going on?” you inquire, probably... Too bluntly. Ah... At least he doesn’t look too upset—more than he already was, anyway. In fact, he gives you a grin; a rueful one, but still.

“you’ll think ‘m crazy.”

“I won’t,” you counter quickly. He just glances away.

“...heh. i hope so.”

Then, he tells you. About Frisk’s abilities.

They... Aren’t just able to come back from the dead, apparently.

This has all happened before. Without you.

* * *

Oh gods. If you weren’t going to leave before, you will _now_.

It’s too much for you. Sans should have known that.

Stars, why is he such an idiot, why didn’t he just keep _quiet_—

_You probably don’t even believe him._

And why would you? Why would you... Trust _anything_ he has to say? He’s the _last_ person you should trust.

Honestly, you’re probably just humoring him at this point; that’s the only reason you’ve listened. That’s the only reason you’re still here.

_How could you ever believe him—_

“I believe you.”

...What?

“I believe you,” you repeat, simply, and way too trustingly.

No, this... This can’t be right.

* * *

You can tell he’s struggling to process your words; probably distrusting what you said. But you’re willing to repeat yourself again. He only seems more confused by that, so you pull him into another hug before he can react.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” you say softly, and you really _are_ sorry, even if you know it’s not technically your fault. “I’m... Sorry you had to go through that.”

He’s not crazy. He’s not lying. You know he’s not.

You... Wish you could show him you know that; that you do trust him.

Maybe saying something else could suffice, for now.

“I promise things are going to be okay.” It’s not enough, so you continue. “I’ll make sure of it. You don’t have to... Be alone anymore.”

He won’t be. You’ll be here, even if you weren’t in the other timelines.

That’s why you’re here _now_, to fix things. To help everyone.

It’ll be okay. Monsters will be okay this time. They’ll get to stay this time. Humans will be... Nice, this time.

Sans can see the future, this time.

“you’re really too good to be true,” Sans suddenly laughs, and you realize you’d been hugging him for _far_ too long. You immediately retract from the embrace, smiling sheepishly (and not noticing the disappointment in his expression).

“I’m just doing what I think’s best,” you say honestly. _There’s nothing special about me._

He snorts. “sure.”

...What’s _that_ supposed to mean?

“you’re _seriously_ blind,” he goes on. You scowl halfheartedly.

“Says the guy with no eyes.”

“hey, i’m a _magic_ skeleton. very big difference.”

It’s your turn to say “Sure” before standing up and heading for the door. You hear him stammer out behind you, “h-hey, where are you going?”

“My work here’s done,” you reply. “Therefore, I must move on to more.”

You just _know_ he’s deadpanning at you. “seriously?”

“Of course. I still haven’t quite shown Undyne the ropes of being on the force, you know that. A president’s job is never _fin_ished, Sans.”

You glance back as you open the door, watching the pinpricks in his eye-sockets shrink once again. You smile smugly, then shut said door behind you, just in time to hear his barks of laughter echo through the wood.

Of course, you don’t exactly tell Papyrus what the two of you talked about, but assure him his brother will be fine.

Even though you’re not sure what you’re doing, still.

You really _don’t_ know how you’re going to stop Frisk from resetting. You can’t guarantee Sans will be free from that, either, but...

For him, you’re willing to try, even if you _are_ a bit in over your head in this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I didn't make it entirely clear, so here:
> 
> The monsters have been to the surface in other timelines; every time, though, they usually were either sent back underground, or they didn't get the "true" happy ending they wanted, so Frisk resetted over and over to improve upon that. This made Sans frustrated, because a lot of these timelines Frisk resetted right before something pivotal happened, where there was a chance of things turning around and a chance of the humans actually being _nice_ for once.
> 
> However, for whatever reason this timeline's not like those ones; which is basically the only reason Frisk hasn't resetted. If Lara hadn't let monsters into the city, things could be very different, which is another thing Sans is worried about; and after going through so many timelines with this mindset, he's pretty much just beaten down. That's part of why Lara was able to get Sans to open up so easily. Literally anything can tip Frisk's scale at this point, and he's paranoid that they'll reset anyway, regardless of how well things have gone. I know I didn't touch on a bunch of things in this chapter, but that's really for later. 
> 
> <strike>The weight of all of this will hit Lara eventually, don't worry. :)</strike>


	25. Mixed Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Valentine's Day! And of course, you celebrate by staying home and keeping Asgore company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS LOOK AT THIS  
https://www.deviantart.com/lil-doodle-noodle/art/For-me-831976444  
I'M STILL FANGIRLING EEEEEE! SERIOUSLY, GO SHOW HER SOME LOVE!
> 
> anyway!!
> 
> Sorry for the late update, seeing as it's waaay past Valentine's Day and all. And sorry it's kinda short. I've had writer's block for some time, mainly because I had the flu for a while, so that... Put a damper on things. But I'm still alive, I swear! :'D
> 
> in the meantime i've been listening to a lot of Michael Buble for some reason? it's oddly helped a little bit with that writer's block lol. this song in particular is my jam, it's so friggin catchy go listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXeYRs_zR6w
> 
> Anyhow, hope you enjoy this dumb fluff I made for you guys. <strike>And don't hate me for the lack of romance. :")</strike>

The day starts, and you kind of inwardly groan before getting out of bed, because you realize what day it is.

You’re not _complaining_; but when it comes to Valentine’s Day, you have mixed feelings about the whole affair. Funnily enough, it’s not for the reason most people hate it, but for the... Opposite, almost?

In other words, you find yourself turning down more guys than you thought would. You enjoy being single, unlike a lot of the people you know. Putting it that way sounds harsh, and you really don’t want to be here, but you’re just not interested.

You’re bad enough with keeping friends anyway. An actual relationship is something you definitely _don’t_ see happening, for multiple reasons that you don’t want to get into or think about.

<strike>And it’s best for you not to think about it.</strike>

Thankfully, the morning begins normally enough. You don’t get any weird calls or wrong numbers, so that’s a plus. Asgore seems... A bit sadder than usual, but you only ask him about it once and don’t press. Instead, you try a different tactic: showing him some music.

Of course, most of it is old show tunes and country, since you have zero variety. But it’s super effective! You even throw a little bit of jazz into the mix, because you can, and because Will isn’t here to give you the stink eye. Since your phone’s volume can only go up so high, you eventually plug it into a speaker and turn it up further.

Almost as soon as you do so, another old song starts playing:

_“You know I can’t smile without you,_

_“I can’t smile without you,_

_“I can’t laugh and I can’t sing,_

_“I’m finding it hard to do anything”_

Seeing as it’s one of your favorites, you end up turning the volume a bit higher—then immediately turn it back down after remembering Asgore’s still here, and you’d rather not ruin his eardrums with your own current immunity to loud music.

“Sorry,” you blurt, merely out of habit. “I tend to... Do that.”

You’re about have a heart attack before realizing his laughter’s probably not directed _at_ you. “No, no, it is quite alright,” he assures you with a warm smile, after his chuckles die out. “I’m assuming you like this song?”

“Uh... Yeah.” Well, that response was a bit understated, wasn’t it.

Geez, can’t you just get a hold of yourself, for once?

“...Is something wrong?”

Oh no, it probably looks like you’re sulking again. Why do you do this? “Oh, sure—I mean,” you quickly amend, “no, everything’s fine!”

Asgore just frowns, and you internally facepalm. “Lara, if something is bothering you, you know you can tell me, right?”

“Yes, I totally know!” You grimace a bit at yourself, but quickly plaster on another smile as you go to turn off the music. “But it’s fine. Really, I promise.”

You’re not sure why you’re acting like this, anyhow. Ah well. You know what can get your mind off it.

* * *

Thankfully, after making your regular tea for the both of you, you start communicating normally again; you turn the TV on this time, rather than continuing with your music, and expect the rest of the night to be uneventful.

Turns out, that’s... Not _exactly_ what happens.

Now, let it be known that you’re not really used to receiving gifts; at least, gifts that aren’t flowers, or random objects that you admittedly have no interest in. And honestly, nowadays seeing as most people don’t actually know you personally, the only gifts you get _and_ like are from William.

You know it’s the thought that counts, of course. But, after some time, you’ve started to realize that those gifts are more so to make _them_ feel better, or to _pacify_ you, in a way—to make you think highly of them, in some regard. Maybe part of that’s your fault; you just don’t give them a chance to get to know you. (But, even so...)

The point is, when somebody knocks on your door, you’re not expecting it to be Sans. With a lava lamp. Clearly, a brand new one, as it’s in a box.

You don’t know if he was expecting Asgore to answer or what, but when he notices you, standing there in the doorway, his expression morphs into something less than calm. (Not that it seemed calm _before_, when you first opened the door.)

“i-i, uh—” he begins stammering, before you can say anything. “...hey?”

“Hey,” you respond, blinking. “What’s, um... What’s with the new lava lamp?”

His eye-lights seem to shrink further, somehow. “i... eheheh... ‘s for you?”

“...For me,” you repeat.

“yeah...? i-i mean—if you don’t really want it—”

“No, no, it's just, like... Why?”

“...uh.” He stares back at you for a moment. “w-well, for, uh... helpin’ me.”

You stare back at him, too. “For helping you?” You echo his words again, dumbly.

“y-yeah?”

“...Oh. You mean the... Reset thing.”

He nods, sweat slowly rolling down the side of his face.

“Um. Well... You’re welcome,” you say awkwardly. “But really, you don’t have to actually _buy_ me something for it.”

“i know, i just... wanted to. sorry it’s not... wrapped or anything.”

His smile is clearly strained, and you suddenly realize he’s probably expecting you to turn the lava lamp down; which you’re _not_ about to do. Sure, you didn’t see it coming, and you really don’t think your help warrants something from him in return. But apparently, he specifically bought it _for you_, and that’s...

That’s actually really sweet of him.

Why _would_ you turn it down?

Before he can stress over it anymore, you take the lava lamp from him, smiling broadly. “Well, thanks! I really appreciate it.” (And you really do; you hope that gets through somehow.)

He doesn’t look much better upon hearing you say that, though you think you do see his shoulders relax somewhat. “y-you’re welcome.”

“Um, you can, uh... Come inside, if you want,” you add. “It’s kind of cold out here.”

“nah, ‘s fine. i should head back, so...”

“Oh. Right, so...” You bounce on your feet for a second. “See you later, then, I guess.”

“uh, yeah. see ya.”

Moving the lamp to one arm, you give him a small wave and grin before turning to head back inside, then instantly regret the rather abrupt way you said goodbye; but when you turn back, maybe to say a final goodbye, he’s vanished.

...Hmm.

You’re starting to form a hypothesis about that.

Shrugging it off for the time being anyway, you shut the door behind you. Mixed feelings about the holiday or not, you can’t wait to set up your new lava lamp.

(And send Sans another “thank you” in text form, just because.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (yes there needed to be another lava lamp, what do you take me for, an amateur?? <strike>i am an amateur but that's besides the point</strike>)
> 
> the lamp he gives her looks something [like this](https://www.target.com/p/14-5-lava-lamp-purple-lava-lite/-/A-52050652). the one she gave him though is literally the most basic lava lamp you can think of lol (aka cyan)
> 
> ALSO, go listen to Sleeping At Last's version of Can't Smile Without You, it's so pretty yet so sad and I'm totally going to use it in the story later too c:
> 
> okaay i'm done now i think. i've rambled long enough haha. Thanks for reading!!


	26. How Long of Time is Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans worries about some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW, I'M EXCITED I'M BEING PRODUCTIVE TOO EEE
> 
> and i have a song reference problem guys, help, i can't stop
> 
> Also, just for the record! I really love this chapter, not only because I personally think it's one of my better-written ones but also because regardless of how fans tend to treat him (for reasons, ahem), Sans is a very special character to me, both in the game and in the fandom. A lot of what he feels here, I struggle with too sometimes, and I think a lot of people can relate to that as well. I hope I portrayed his mindset well, because it's basically like writing my own in some ways, haha.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this one! I love ya'll. <3
> 
> (Just a quick warning, like I kind of hinted at: This chapter deals with sensitive topics like self-hatred and depression, so if that bothers you, please read mindfully!)

Grillby's is packed with patrons, monsters filling the seats almost everywhere. The only human here is you, and you’re currently slouching a bit on your stool, fiddling with your hands.

Sans is sitting next to you, his fingers tapping on the table in slight anxiety as he waits for Grillby to come back with both of your orders.

“So how's Papyrus?” you ask, when he makes no effort to say anything to you. He merely shrugs in answer.

“think he's kinda mad at me, i dunno.”

“Why?”

“for not tellin' him anythin' about the conversation we had.”

The tapping of his fingers increases, almost like a drumming. He glances around the restaurant, trying to calm his nerves. There is an old song playing on a radio somewhere, soft and sweet. He recognizes the song. He's heard it once before, maybe yesterday. Something about, quite literally, falling in love.

He doesn't remember who sings it, but he's pretty sure the singer's been dead for a while.

...Why is he thinking about that?

“Maybe you should talk to him,” you say suddenly, and he redirects his attention to you, a bit dazed.

“who?”

“Your brother,” you repeat. Like it's simple. Like it'll make a big difference.

It won't.

Sure, he told _you_, but you're... Different. He cares about you and he's just as afraid of losing you, but you're also... Likely to leave him, either way.

But Papyrus is his family. He won't leave unless something forces him to—like Frisk.

Like telling him _about_ Frisk.

“i can't,” he mutters to you, finally.

You glance at him once, eyes blinking. Then you turn away, and stare ahead of you blankly.

It seems like several minutes pass; maybe even an hour or two. And the two of you just sit there, not uttering a word.

The music stops, and everything goes silent.

He glances behind him, realizing the building’s empty now. He hadn't realized exactly how empty it’s become until the silence becomes deafening, blanketing the whole room in a tense shell of quiet. Not a good quiet, more like...

Like...

The entrance suddenly creaks open, and Sans jumps like he’d been struck. His eye-lights settle on the new figure, though he keeps the silence intact.

Faintly, he hears static somewhere. Barely audible, but there, somehow.

<strike>It reminds him of something.</strike>

<strike>Something he can’t quite remember.</strike>

<strike>Why can’t he remember?</strike>

He involuntarily shudders as the human steps closer, and hopes you don’t see the sudden fear in his movements.

But you’re not paying attention.

Your eyes are still on your hands, like you haven’t even noticed somebody else is here.

Sans watches like a hawk as the child slinks forward, and freezes when they do in the middle of the room. He tries to say something, but his mouth won’t let him, as if his teeth are acting as a cage.

They clasp their hands towards their chest. He can’t even take a breath, much less shout at them.

And he tries to.

He tries to shriek at them to stop. To give him more time. _Just a little more time._

_He just needs a little more time with you._

But it’s too late.

Frisk brings out their soul, _their Determination_. It shines in the dimness of the dark restaurant, like a flame, but somehow even brighter. And the glow increases still.

Bright,

Brighter,

Yet brighter.

Then...

_Gone._

* * *

Sans wakes up with a jolt, springing up from his mattress like he just rose from the grave. His magic buzzes around him like a million bees, agitated, but terrified. Almost mirroring Frisk’s actions, he clutches at his chest with a hand, right over his soul, which thunders in his ribcage painfully.

_What the Hell?_

He hasn’t had a nightmare _that _lucid in, well... _Forever_.

Not since _this_ timeline.

And it wasn’t even like his usual ones. You were there. Why _were_ you there? Why did you start ignoring him, as though nothing that was happening _was_? As though nothing existed, as though...

As though_ you_ didn’t?

_What WAS all of that?_

Inhaling and exhaling rapidly, almost heaving, he quickly checks himself just to make sure. His brief relief of finding nothing different dies quickly as he continues hyperventilating, and a good ten minutes or so pass before he’s relatively calmed down.

He lets out a shaky sigh and falls back down on the mattress, cursing.

Even after his distress has mostly gone away, he knows for a fact he won’t be able to go back to sleep so soon. Which is just great, because he was actually looking forward to making an effort to do something tomorrow.

He’ll get no rest at this rate, and that’s going to ruin his entire half-baked schedule. And, it’s also four in the morning, he makes note of. So he can’t even get up yet.

What can he possibly do at this hour that can get him relaxed enough for sleep again?

Well...

First, he considers calling or texting you; then immediately throws that out the window, of course. You’re more than likely asleep at this hour, just like every other normally functioning creature on the planet. Even if you aren’t...

He doesn’t want to bother you again.

It’s silly, considering he knows you’ll probably be too kind to actually be mad or turn him away, but he just doesn’t think it’s something you should worry about. He can deal with his own problems. He doesn’t need to fall back on you just because he’s feeling a little sad, or alone at the moment.

There’s no reason for you to worry about him.

He’ll deal with this on his own.

<strike>Even if he really misses the way your arms feel around him.</strike>

Therefore, he thinks of a second option, and does the next best thing by leaning over to turn his lava lamp on.

Instantly, the wax bubbles start moving, as though it has been on for more than half a second. He remembers the box of the lava lamp he gave you mentioning waiting several hours for the “lava” to actually start up, and that makes him wonder about why this one is so quick to function. Have you somehow messed with it, or...?

Huh. Maybe he can ask you sometime.

He lays back down on his back, though keeps his sockets on the lamp, watching the wax rise and fall in slow movements. Already, as he keeps his focus on it, his soul starts calming, and his previous thoughts begin dissipating slowly to the back of his mind.

Granted, he’d had a similar experience before, on a particular bad morning when his intrusive anxieties had almost been too much to handle; the only thing he considered doing to alleviate them was to... Take it out on things. On himself.

He almost had. He’d tried to, at first.

But that was the morning after the Christmas party.

And he’d remembered you hadn’t looked at him that same way. The same way he did.

You’d taken an effort to _give_ him something, even if it was yours, and you clearly had some sort of attachment to it.

You felt he was... Worth something, then. Worthy enough to hand over a possession you cared about.

So he turned the lamp on then, too, because it reminded him of that. Of how you cared.

Only difference now is that it is the middle of the night, and the glow of the lava lamp pretty much fills up the entire room. Not to mention, his feelings towards you are a bit different, and you’re closer to him than then.

Maybe that is why he thought of giving you a lava lamp, above all else. He doesn’t exactly know what else you like, but based on your reaction, it’s good enough for you. He’s not even sure you even realized how much you showed your appreciation, but then again, that’s probably for the best—you might be a little freaked out if he told you he could read your soul like that.

Do you even know you have a soul? Sure, you know Frisk does, but would you consider your own?

What color is your soul, anyhow? That’s the only thing he can’t quite see when he checks you, when he attempts to, which is... Odd. He’d at least get a hint at who had what trait, but you’re weirdly... Secretive about it. He’s not even sure you’re doing it intentionally, depending on how much you know about souls. It’s natural to you, somehow.

He... Wonders what might have taught you to keep secrets like that. It’s not a instinct one knows right from birth; and you use it as though it’s a skill.

And, that worries him. Humans can be secretive, he knows that, but...

But you’re not just secretive. You’re _closed off_. You hate speaking your mind about certain things, or showing how you feel. And even for a human, that’s...

It’s not normal.

And it _scares_ him.

Sans lets out another sigh, putting a hand to his skull, and glancing up at the ceiling for a few seconds before turning his gaze back to the wax in the lamp.

Things would be _so_ much easier if he didn’t care about you.

...But maybe that’s a good thing.

* * *

“OH, GOOD MORNING, BROTHER!!” Papyrus quickly spins around to face him from the stove, grinning widely. “YOU’RE UP EARLY TODAY!”

Well, considering he woke up again at eight in the morning and couldn’t go back to bed for the longest time, then yeah, ten was still pretty early for him.

At least he hadn’t had any nightmares this time.

Slowly, the skeleton trudges to the table, and plops down in his usual seat. “not willingly,” he mutters.

“OH.” His smile falters, just a bit, but he turns around quickly, trying to hide it. Sans still notices. “ANYWAY, YOUR TOAST IS READY.”

c_rap, that made him upset. _“sorry,” he blurts, without thinking, and solely out of guilt. Papyrus glances at him again, brows furrowed slightly.

“WHAT ARE YOU SORRY FOR? IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT.”

...What exactly does he mean by that?

Sans can’t seem to get the inquire out, even as Papyrus comes over to set a plate down in front of him. Hesitating, he picks the toast up and begins chewing, despite his lack of appetite.

“I KNOW YOU DON’T... GET A LOT OF SLEEP.”

Sans pauses. He swallows the food in his mouth, then utters out a, “huh?”

“YOU SLEEP ALL THE TIME BUT YOU’RE NOT ACTUALLY GETTING THE AMOUNT YOU NEED,” his brother states matter-of-factly, picking up a sponge and a plate at the sink.

“...how do you figure?” asks Sans cautiously.

Papyrus doesn’t respond, only continuing to scrub at the dishes and run them under water. Sans snorts quietly, and pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking his messages.

He about has a mini heart attack when his phone vibrates in his hand, seeing you just sent a text a few seconds ago. He studies the message for a moment, then smiles questioningly at it:

** _miss president: _ ** _youtube.com/__watch?v__=w5tWYmIOWGk_

It’s... A link? To a video?

**_Sans_****:** _???_

** _miss president: _ ** _Sorry! That was random wasn’t it_

** _miss president:_ ** _ I just wanted to show you it? For some reason??_

** _miss president: _ ** _It’s just one of my favorites and I thought you might like it, _ _agh__, sorry, that’s stupid._

** _Sans: _ ** _no _ _no_ _ its fine_

** _Sans: _ ** _brb _ _gonna_ _ listen_

He does, playing the song out loud. Papyrus glances once at him, but says nothing, and the song plays for a few minutes. When it ends, Sans goes back to text you.

** _Sans: _ ** _thanks_

** _miss president: _ ** _???_

He laughs slightly at your response, feeling just a bit lighter than before.

** _Sans: _ ** _i_ _ liked it _ _i_ _ mean, thx for showing me_

** _miss president: _ ** _Oh! You’re welcome! I could show you more sometime if you want, there’s a lot of good human songs you might not have heard yet._

** _Sans: _ ** _sure_

Papyrus once again glances at his brother, who is absorbed in his phone, not paying attention to his surroundings. He smiles knowingly, then goes back to the dishes.

And Sans still grins at the screen like a fool, forgetting his fear that he might not see you again tomorrow.


	27. Take What Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a run-in with some not-so-friendly people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sorry if it's clunky, i couldn't figure out a good way to tie everything together here)
> 
> Howdy-do, time for more plot. :3
> 
> <strike>After all, this is still just the beginning.</strike>

“So you want me to... Evaluate it?”

You look at Will incredulously while he leans over your desk, his dirty blonde hair messier than when you last saw him (you wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t even wash it). He’s also been fidgeting a lot since coming to your office; and apparently it _is_ a thing now for your friends to just show up at your office on random occasions.

“Not _evaluate_ it. I’m just saying,” William says, “if you like it, then she’s bound to like it too, right?”

“Music is subjective, Will.”

“Yeah but if it sounds good, it sounds good, ya get what I’m saying?”

“...Sure.”

He pounds his fists on the table, making you jump slightly. “Come on, Lar! I won’t ask you to do anything else!”

“For at least another week,” you add to his words, earning you a glare from him.

“I’m _serious_. Help me out, please?”

To top it off, he gives you the equivalent of puppy-dog eyes. You groan, making him deflate a little; then fixate him with a good-natured smirk.

“Alright,” you pretend to sigh, “I’ll come tonight.”

At that, he grins so wide you think his face might split in half.

* * *

The practice is about as rough as you imagined it being. Quite a few times, you have to keep yourself from outwardly grimacing, and even then, you probably don’t do it completely.

William is... Doing alright in his part? Sort of? But the pianist—Polly, as you remember her—messes up a lot on her playing, continually either missing notes or hitting ones that don’t belong. You don’t blame the poor girl, of course, but it comes to a point where you just can’t really take watching it anymore. (Or listening to it?)

“Okay, okay, how about we all take a break?” you call over the noise, rising from your own seat. They both stop and share a glance, then put down their instruments.

“Yeah, that’d probably be a good idea,” Will agrees reluctantly.

You wave them both over to the snack table you three set up beforehand, and you all help yourselves to it. After pouring yourself a cup from the pre-made coffee, you turn to look at William, eyeing him seriously as he munches on a few pretzels.

“I’m going to give you some advice, alright?” you say, questioningly, as though he’ll argue; but he just nods with the food still in his mouth. “Don’t play the song as it is.”

He scowls at you, swallows, then inquires, “What?”

“As in, don’t play it at the same tempo it usually is,” you continue. “Learn the notes first. Don’t rush it.”

“But—”

“_Don’t_. Rush it,” you repeat firmly. “The worst thing you can do is learn the song at a quick pace; it messes you up enough that you’ll _keep_ messing up every time you try playing it. Slow it down to the pace _you_ can work at, and learn the notes _completely_ before actually speeding them up.”

Will makes a helpless gesture with his hands, protesting, “But we don’t have that much time! I told Chrissy she could come on Friday!”

“So?”

“Two days away,” he snaps bluntly, and you snort.

“You’re making it worse than it is.” You take a small sip of your coffee before going on with your little speech. “Seriously, Will, take it from me: you’ll never get it if you don’t take the necessary steps first. It’s like learning scales, y’know?”

“I hate scales.”

“I know you do.”

He sighs, grumbles something under his breath, then reaches behind you to grab a few more pretzels. “If I can’t learn the song like it is _now_, what’s the point?”

“You want to show it to her, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“And you want her to like it, right?”

“Well, duh?”

You offer him a tiny smile. “Practice does make perfect. So practice the song _correctly_.”

He rolls his eyes at you, stuffing the pretzels into his mouth once more.

“F’re lucky I ‘rust f’ou,” he complains through the crumbs, and you start laughing, almost spilling your coffee all over yourself.

A few hours later, you and Will are walking on the sidewalk back to your place, his cello slung over his shoulder haphazardly while you kick at stones in your path. It’s been mostly quiet between the two of you, so when Will decides to suddenly start talking, you can’t help but startle somewhat:

“Hey, so you know Danny, right?”

“Who?” you inquire dubiously.

“She plays the viola.”

At that, you squint your eyes. “If that’s her name, then yeah.”

“Well, she’s leaving.”

You stop kicking at the rocks, glancing to Will with questioning eyes.

“I figured she left already,” you admit. “Hasn’t it been, like, two months since you’ve seen her?”

“Uh, kind of?” He fills in your spot by flinging a stone to the side with his boot. “We still have her phone number but she’s been busy with other things recently, so she never really comes to practice anymore.”

“Did she say she was leaving?”

William clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “Not... Directly, no. But she’s kinda implied it, I guess. Anyway,” he quickly picks up his chipper tone again, “since there’s that, and she’ll probably be out of the band soon, me and Polly were wondering if you’d like to—”

Oh no.

You know where this is going.

“—join us?”

Oh yeah, that’s where this is going.

“I,” you begin, then stop.

Your attention leaves him, instead settling on something in front of you.

Will trudges up beside you, already saying something—probably asking you what’s wrong, if the concern in his gaze is anything to go by. But he follows where you’re looking too, and halts as well.

“What’s happening?” he asks, sounding confused, and... A little scared, maybe.

“I don’t...” You trail off.

Is that...

Monster Kid?

If it is, then for some reason he’s with a cat guy in the middle of the road several yards ahead of you, a couple of humans surrounding them.

You... Really have no idea what’s happening right now.

But by the looks on their faces, it isn’t anything good.

Without thinking, you leave William’s side and start marching towards the group, leaving a disgruntled Will to call after you and follow when you don’t respond.

“What is going on here?” you demand once you’re close enough; the two men—you think you recognize one of them—turn to you with haughty air, like you just interrupted a game of theirs.

“Oh, you know,” the first guy flaps his hand in a nonchalant way, “just having a chat with these two monsters here.”

“In the middle of the street?” Will questions next to you, having caught up.

“Well, yeah, why not?” The second guy glares at you challengingly.

You keep your gaze level, then say coolly, “If it’s just a chat, _Jeff_, why do they look terrified?”

Jeff blinks at you with a gaping jaw like you just struck him, apparently not expecting you to use his name. In any other scenario, you probably would have laughed at how ridiculous the situation seems; but considering the other man is eyeing you as though you’re some kind of prey, it’s definitely not appropriate for you to react like that.

Without warning, MK suddenly darts over to you, proceeding to hide behind you and use your legs as a shield. You glance at him once, then back at the offenders.

“What exactly did you do?” you inquire, your voice still dangerously calm.

“We were just messing around—”

“Jeffrey, tell me what you did.”

“Stop callin’ me that!” he growls at you, and this time you actively resist the urge to snicker at him. “Geez... Anyhow, we were just trying to get them to use their magic, y’know? Education purposes and crap! And then they just, flipped out! We didn’t even do nothin’, we just, y’know, pushed ‘em a bit—”

“You pushed a child?” you interrupted.

“Yeah, so we could see their damn magic! Anyway—”

“Okay, just... Stop talking.” You huff out a sigh, running a hand through your hair with a small shake of your head. “I’ve heard enough.”

“But—”

“Jeff, you’re delusional,” you cut him off again, with a bit more edge this time. “Both of you,” you add, sending a glare the other man’s way; in response, he just frowns at you, narrowing his eyes and...

You quickly move your gaze away again. You’re not quite sure how to explain it, but something in his expression unsettles you—which is only made worse considering you’ve never actually seen him before, which is... More than a little odd.

Shaking that off, you go on icily, “You’re lucky I’ll let you off easy; if I see something like this again, I’ll take further action. I don’t take kindly to assault, _or_ bigotry,” you say with a bit more venom. You then hiss at Jeff, “Now take your little friend and get out of here before I have your asses thrown in prison—or worse.”

Jeff opens his mouth to say something, but is jabbed harshly in the side by his companion, who mutters out a, “Whatever,” before whipping around and heading in the opposite direction; Jeffrey scoffs before falling suit with a few grumbles of his own.

Once they’re gone, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding, and gently coax MK out from behind you. “They didn’t actually hurt you, did they?” you ask hopefully. The cat monster shakes his head.

“Nah, they were really just bluffin’,” he snorts. You don’t mention it, but you see a bit of fear in his eyes, all the same. “But, uh...” You look at him patiently as he rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks for... Standin’ up for us and all.”

“Yeah!” MK pipes up. “You were _awesome_!”

You smile at them, though in a somewhat-embarrassed way. “Oh, it was no problem. I’m glad I could help. Let me know if they bother you two again, or anyone else, okay?”

They nod, and you bid farewell to them, before once more going on course with William to your house.

* * *

“Hmm.”

He inhales from his cigar deeply, before puffing out the smoke in a big cloud.

“They refused to use magic, huh?” he inquires, voice echoing through the receiver that is pressed up against his head.

_“I think they were scared to,” _the man on the other side replies. _“Didn’t want to... Mess things up_.” He pauses. _“_..._Should we tell him about them yet?”_

“No,” the man with the cigar hums. “We can handle it ourselves. For now.”

_“So, try again?”_

“Soon. I’ll tell you when.”

_“Got it.” _He clicks his tongue._ “Until then, Bill.”_

“Sure.”

Bill ends the call, frowning.

“Well,” he sighs, “you certainly are making things complicated.”

Aren’t you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to imagine Lara has documents of almost every person that was born/legally became a citizen in Ebott, as in personal info and stuff, so she knows their name/background/etc. (obviously new people like monsters would be admitted their own documents further in the future)
> 
> and since she pretty much knows everyone she literally just addresses criminals by their first name, using it as an intimidation tactic like "I know everything about you c:<"  
and i don't know, it just
> 
> it's really amusing to me to think about


	28. Balancing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go to a cello concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (THIS IS NOT AN APRIL FOOLS DAY PRANK, I PROMISE)
> 
> so three things
> 
> one, i actually started learning a bit of the guitar myself,
> 
> second,
> 
> i stumbled upon the Hell that is the Soulmate trope but Reader is not the soulmate, and it gave me a big case of sad which i'm still kinda salty about
> 
> and three, whenever i can i turn the radio on and switch it to a country station, and i'm currently obsessed with Brett Young's song Catch at the moment
> 
> so obviously, i had to include it in this chapter
> 
> anyway enjoy the train-wreck that i made for ya'll

You’re currently in your van outside Will’s parents’ house, having been waiting since you got here, and it’s been about... Ten minutes—you make note of by checking the clock—since you first showed up. He’s more than a little late, and you’re getting frustrated, not to mention impatient.

Technically, it is only seven right now, and you guys don’t have to be there until eight-thirty, but he does have to practice at least a little before the actual concert. You told him that too, and he seemed to agree, but he’s wasting time and you’re stressed. Really stressed; more than you should be, considering you’re not the one performing.

And really, you’re not even supposed to be here; you were originally going to just stay home but Will yet again roped you into seeing him perform, and because you don’t’ want to let him down, you just agreed to come. (Plus, you’re his ride, as he hates driving.)

Unfortunately, that means you’ll _be there_, at the same time Christine is. And that fact is... Troubling, to say the least. It doesn’t sit well with you.

<strike>And if Christine shows up before you, what will happen? She’ll probably call you, how could you keep up a conversation with her? How will you hold up when you two actually get there?</strike>

But it’s fine! You’re fine.

...Still, you pull out your phone anyway, just in case. Texting takes your mind off things. You already texted Will, and he already responded a few minutes ago, so you have to choose someone else, but...

You jump as your phone suddenly vibrates in your hand; instantly you light up, not simply because it’s a person you hadn’t thought of:

** _Sans: _ ** _hey u free tonight?_

** _You: _ ** _Not at the moment, sorry. Why_ _?_

Some time passes before he responds.

* * *

Sans spends some time staring at your message, a margin away from just throwing his phone and burying his head in his hands.

Of course you’re busy. Ugh, he’s so stupid. What was he expecting? He shouldn’t have listened to him.

** _Sans: _ ** _oh ok_

** _Sans: _ ** _sorry for bothering you_

** _You: _ ** _No, no, it’s fine! Just bad timing._

* * *

You frown thoughtfully; come to think of it, you haven’t really spent that much time with him since he told you about the resets. Granted, you haven’t spent that much time with any of your new friends, but knowing what you know _now_...

You still owe him something, after all.

<strike>And it’s not like you’ve really helped him with anything.</strike>

Besides, you do want to show him everything the surface has to offer. It could be fun.

** _You: _ ** _I’m really just going to go see Will perform something, you want to come along actually?_

* * *

...Uh.

Well, he wasn’t expecting that, exactly. He supposes that will work? I mean, it’s not like he was asking you out on a date.

Right?

...Nah, that’s dumb.

<strike>It won’t even work anyway.</strike>

This is probably better.

* * *

** _Sans: _ ** _ok sure_

You feel a mixture of relief and nervousness as he agrees to come, but you text him the directions to the place and the time anyway. Just as you tell him bye for now, William bolts out of his front door and across his lawn, opens the back seat to carefully place his cello there, and jumps into the passenger seat all in one breath.

You blink at him, then look around to make sure he closed both doors before starting the car. You notice him pause before turning the radio on, as he usually does.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks suddenly. You give him a questioning glance, and he adds, “You look more tired than usual.”

You shake your head with a smile. “Oh, no, I’m fine. Just been working a lot, you know how I am.”

He snorts, looking convinced enough as he finally turns the radio on, as well as switching it to a country station, of course.

As you drive, however, you don’t see the glances he throws you every once in a while.

A few minutes later, you two end up staying in the car after arriving at the abandoned bar, simply because Will would rather listen to the song on the radio before moving. He’s singing along to the lyrics, thoroughly enraptured and obviously not concerned about the time crunch.

Just as the song hits its last chorus and he enthusiastically yells out, _“BUT THEN I SAW YOUR FACE—”_ you pull the keys out of the ignition without warning and climb out, ignoring his protests; then he continues to sing the words anyway, with no beat to follow, so you start run-walking to the building just to get away from him. 

“You’re no fun!” he calls after you, just as you shut the door in his face.

You’re pretty impressed right now, honestly.

Given Will and Polly only had a short span of time to rehearse the song, they sound good—like, _really_ good, compared to last time you were here. And you make sure to clap after the first practice, as well as compliment them both in turn.

Christine arrives around eight forty-five, fifteen minutes before it’s set to start; and you start getting anxious again for two reasons.

One, you can tell she immediately spots you as soon as she walks through the door, and she looks about as nervous as you feel inside. You have a slight moment of panic where you think she’ll just come over to talk to you, but thankfully, William comes up to greet her, and she’s distracted by him instead.

Second, you realize Sans isn’t here yet. Did he bail on you? No, he probably lied, didn’t he? He never intended to come, he was just—

Okay, okay, stop. It’s fine. He’s still got... Ten minutes left, you think. Stop worrying.

You rub your temples, and stand up from the chair you were using, letting out a sigh. Maybe you just need to relax. Coffee always helps you relax. You should drink some coffee.

Much to your relief, there are still a couple pre-made packages you’d left lying around from last time. You make your way over to the table and pick up the coffee pot to go fill it with water, then return to the maker to start it up.

“Lara, you doing alright?”

William’s voice makes you jump, and you turn to him, quickly smiling. “I’m fine!” You internally scold yourself for how high your tone is. “I’m just really tired. From work, remember?”

He nods slowly, but eyes the way your hands shake on the handle of the pot. “Do you need something to eat?” he asks, carefully. “You don’t look good.”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, grinning at him, “seriously. Just go get everything ready, okay?”

“Lara...”

“Go.”

He gives in, exhaling heavily, and walks away reluctantly. You desperately try to get your hands to stop shaking, putting the pot down.

Maybe... Maybe fresh air will help? It’s worth a shot, right?

Stuffing your hands in your pockets, you head for the back door behind the counter.

It’s nine. The song’s probably started, but you’re sitting in your car. You don’t really want coffee anymore.

For all you know, Sans could have shown up already, too, and you wouldn’t be paying attention, so you wouldn’t know. But does it really matter?

...Why are you thinking like this?

Why can’t you just calm down?

They’re going to worry about you.

They probably are.

And they have no reason to.

You’re fine. You’re always fine, this is fine, you...

...You’re going to fail them anyway.

You have before.

Every time.

You’re not even meant to _exist_, why even try?

Did you ever even... Consider that? Truly?

What must Sans think of you?

You let him talk about it once, and then left him. You forgot about it, temporarily.

You forgot to help your friend.

You forgot to be there for him.

...And isn’t that ironic?

The one thing you swore to do in this job, you failed to accomplish. The one thing you promised others, and yourself, you’d do.

Who’s to say you won’t abandon them all over again?

Who’s to say you won’t abandon _him_?

After all, you’re doing it right now.

Heh...

You’re a pretty poor excuse for the “Leader of Ebott,” aren’t you?

You laugh a little, running your fingers through your hair, vision blurring.

“Gods, I can’t do anything right,” you chuckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh sorry (not sorry). 
> 
> hopefully i'll be able to start working on the next one soon after and get that posted fairly quickly too
> 
> (mainly for my own sanity, not just your guys')
> 
> in the meantime, to make up for this mess, imma introduce you guys to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ) too because it's another new favorite of mine.
> 
> honestly, it's helped me so much this month with stress. it's super inspirational, i definitely recommend it


	29. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve reached your breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agh sorry it's short and kinda late
> 
> and it's probably the least satisfying chapter i've written in this story thus far
> 
> but eh

Something’s not right. 

You’re not here.

...Wait, no, you _are_ here, you’re just not... _Here_.

Unless this isn’t the right place...?

But he’s certain you gave him the right directions; and hold on, your friends are over there anyway, so obviously you’re here. Just not here. Right?

“Hey, Sans!”

He turns his head almost reluctantly, seeing William run up to him, grinning but seeming disheveled. What happened? Where are you?

“You’re, uh, Lara invited you, right?” he asks, running his hands through his hair, and messes it up even further.

“yeah,” he says, slowly. Trying to gauge his behavior.

“So, you wouldn’t happen to know what’s going on with her?” Sans’s observations of Will tugging at his hair subside, and his own eyes narrow, just a little.

“what do you mean?”

He laughs, nervously, “Um, w-well, she left a few minutes ago? We thought she was upset about something so we left her alone but it’s been a while now and? I was just about to go out there myself honestly, to find her, but—”

Sans has already disappeared.

* * *

You’re not sure what to do at this moment, honestly; last time you’ve had a breakdown like this—or really, cried at all—was... Quite a long time ago, you don’t know _exactly_ when.

You suppose you should have seen it coming, what, with everything that’s been happening to you lately.

But at the same time, you’re just... Numb. Which is probably the last thing you should be, but...

You just don’t care.

You don’t have the right to.

You open the glove compartment, pulling out a small box of tissues you had stored there, and attempt to wipe your still-wet eyes as best you can.

It doesn’t help.

You just look in the mirror and chuckle, until it turns into hysterical tears once more, and bury your head in your hands.

You don’t know what to do.

You just _don’t_, and that...

That’s what hurts most, right now.

_Tap _ _tap_ _._

You nearly jump out of your skin, whipping your head around harshly to glance at whatever could possibly be hitting against your window, and...

...Oh.

...Oh?

You just stare at him, as he stares back, a sheepish grin on his features; it looks more strained than usual, however. And his eye-lights look... Small. Weak.

He almost seems scared. Or worried. You have no reason to see why, so you assume it’s something else, not related to you. (Did they start the music yet? Maybe he’s afraid of missing it? Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you, and he’s just being nice?)

You go to roll the window down, and the first thing that comes out of his figurative mouth is, “what’s wrong?”

“...Nothing.” You know it won’t doing any good, if the tear-tracks on your face are anything to go by, but you say it anyway. Habit, likely.

Naturally, he’s not convinced. “seriously. what’s wrong?” He seems to be searching your expression, as if it’ll provide him with his answer. You exhale heavily, a bit defeated.

“It doesn’t matter,” you manage hoarsely. You wince slightly, as your voice sounds more croaky than you would have liked. “You shouldn’t worry about it.”

“yeah, i should.” He pauses. “you’re my friend.”

“Heh,” you choke out with a watery smile, “using my own words against me, huh?”

His own grin quirks up a bit, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“If you knew what was best for you, you’d leave right now,” you continue, more bitterly than you intended.

You blink, and suddenly, he’s gone.

Oh gods, you... You hadn’t really _meant_ it.

You weren’t actually expecting him to _go_, and—and why is it _hurting_ so much, why did you _tell_ him that—

_What did you do—_

“hey.”

You turn, thinking at first you’d only imagined his voice.

But there he is, in the passenger seat. Just looking at you, his gaze soft, like you’re a good person. Like you haven’t failed him. Like you won’t.

“i’m never leaving you,” he then says.

You try to laugh once more, but it doesn’t quite work. You go to wipe your eyes, but it doesn’t stop.

Your vision blurs again, and you gasp out a, “I’m sorry,” only for arms to wrap around you, surrounding your impaired vision with blue.

You’re too tired to push him away.

You just bury your face into his jacket further, despite your mind telling you to stop; despite knowing it’s wrong for him to comfort you.

All of this is wrong.

But you’re too tired to care.

* * *

In all the time Sans has known you, he’s never seen you cry.

He’s seen you mad before. Sad, even, a couple of times.

But...

When Will had said you were upset, he didn’t... He didn’t _know_.

And then he saw how much pain you were in.

He’d never seen it before. He’s _never_ seen you like this.

_And he never wants to see it again._

_Stars, it hurts._

_Why did you think he’d leave you, he’d never leave you, _ ** _never_ ** _—_

At the mere thought, he clutches you closer, resting his skull on your shoulder as you continue to sob. Just hearing you in that much pain makes him want to hold you until the very ends of the earth, until he’s dust in the ground.

He pulls away from you, just to brush away your tears with his thumb. "i'm stayin' right here," he says gently, "i promise." _always._

You just smile shakily. "Thanks."

And you lean back, out of reach; refusing to be comforted any longer.

His arms drop to his sides, as he ignores the ache of his soul. "you're welcome."

He knows you're not okay, still.

But he also knows you won't tell him why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> laRA


	30. Don't Look Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, you see a concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's kinda been a while since this was updated so sorry for the short chapter, there just wasn't much to include here haha
> 
> btw, the song Will's band is playing is basically a watered-down, less professional version of this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bks_0s8DR38

Eventually, you two head back inside, though you can tell Sans isn't too fond of doing so; which you try not to feel too bad about. You really don't want him worrying about you after this, but oh well.

“LARAYOU’REOKAY!”

You’re nearly lifted into the air as a pair of arms wrap themselves around you, squeezing tightly around your waist. “Wh—” you wheeze out, trying to re-catch your breath, “what are you, five years old?”

After a pause he pulls away and wipes at his eyes—wait, is he crying? What the heck?? “I-I knew something was wrong but I didn’t do anything and—”

Oh, come on. Sighing, you place your hands on his shoulders, making him look at you directly with a kicked-puppy type of gaze. “William. I am _fine_. I’m not dead.”

“Well yeah but—”

“Stop. Worrying about me. For crying out loud, don’t you have a concert to put on?”

“Well yeah,” he repeats, as though it just then is occurring to him. You roll your eyes and give him a little push in the direction of the stage.

“Get going, then! Your cello isn’t going to play itself, you doof!”

For a moment he digs his heels in, not budging no matter how much effort you put into your shoves; your frustration dissipates when he turns back to you, a frown tugging at his lips still.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, his voice quiet but serious.

You smile back easily, “Of course. I’d tell you if something was really bothering me.”

...

“I promise.”

He brightens, just a little, so you think you convinced him.

Then he grins back, giving you a thumbs-up, before jogging towards the stage. You go to take up your usual seat in the front, purposely avoiding the eyes of the skeleton behind you.

<strike>Part of you knows he can see right through you.</strike>

Despite everything beforehand, the “concert” is going pretty smoothly. For one, Christine’s attention is wholly on the song, and not you, which is more than you could have asked for.

But somehow Will and Polly have managed to dim the lights _and _create a spotlight on themselves? Which you’ve never seen before?? You didn’t even know this building has access to one that still works???

You force that thought out of your mind, instead taking to listen to their performance intently. At some point a soft smile starts across your face, something like peace taking over you.

By the time the song is done, you’re grinning from ear to ear, and you start clapping for all you’re worth. Christine follows suit, and so does Sans (whom you’ve still been avoiding, admittedly). Both of the musicians smile back, Will in particular floored with a mixture of embarrassment and pure happiness.

As soon as they step down from the stage, you track Will down and give him a firm, tender hug, mirroring the one from before. You don’t let him go until you’re satisfied with it, and pull away only to hold him at arms’ length. “Call me cheesy, but... I’m really proud of you,” you tell him, letting out a little laugh, and he rubs the back of his neck as he joins in with your giggles.

“It was just a song, geez,” he says sheepishly.

“Yes, but I know you worked hard for it.” You ruffle his hair, earning a slight glare in response as you just continue to chuckle. “You should be proud of yourself too.”

You give him one last hug before letting him go, watching him head off to go talk to Christine.

Your smile slips, just a little, but you force it back up.

And you don’t know that Sans notices.

* * *

On the way back to his place Will yawns every couple minutes, simultaneously amusing you and irritating you with your overly-tired mentality.

In an effort to break the yawn-filled silence you ask him, “So, how’d it go with Christine?”

Just like that he perks up, all previous exhaustion suddenly gone as he seems to gain the energy of a kid again. “She agreed to go out sometime,” he tells you enthusiastically, yet way too casually for your liking as you blanch.

“Wait—you already asked her out? Just like that?”

“Uh, yeah? And she said yes, so...”

He looks so darn proud of himself that you have to snort. “You move fast.”

“So?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Well, you haven’t moved at all,” he retorts. Then he falls silent.

You want to laugh. You really do.

...You don’t.

“...I’m sorry, I... I didn’t mean it like that,” he mumbles, avoiding your gaze, guilt glazing over his eyes.

“Hey, no worries,” you say, giving him a smile when he looks at you, “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

He didn’t. You know that. <strike>It just hurts.</strike>

“No, I was being insensitive,” he argues, but you’ll have none of it.

“No, _I_ need to get over it. It’s in the past, it’s not worth it.”

“Yeah, but...”

“I should be looking to the future now. And I am.” Your smile softens to a more genuine one, and you grip the steering wheel determinedly. “Just gotta get through the roadblocks.” <strike>Like yourself.</strike>

“...Yeah.”

He still sounds worried. About you.

“Really. I’ll be fine,” you assure him; not realizing your choice of words might contradict you. Trying to ignore how you really feel.

You refuse to let it get to you.

You’ll see everything through to the end, and no one will stand in your way.

...Not even you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright to make up for this mess, imma also introduce you guys to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWpWfL2RlgI) too because it's another favorite of mine
> 
> (and it describes Lara's sense of responsibility pretty well, so)


End file.
